Ghosts from an ignominious past
by Darkenwood
Summary: Once more Uther's ignominious past haunts the younger Pendragon and his warlock friend. While the young men are at peril Gaius makes some very momentous decisions which redefine Merlin's and Arthur's future and Gaius' relationship with Uther. NO SLASH!
1. Capturing the bait

**Ghosts from an ignominious past**

Disclaimer: All characters from the series belong to the BBC, only the others, dead or alive , belong to me.

**1. Capturing the Bait**

"Surrender your sword Pendragon or your men are dead!"

Arthur was panting heavily after the brief but intense fight which had ensued as soon as the attackers had sandbagged him and his small escort. He scanned the battle scene which some moments ago had been a peaceful clearing in a tranquil forest, just right for a short rest.

Four of the unknown knights lay on the ground, dead or knocked out. He himself had killed two more. But it was no use. There were still the two men in front of him and six other fighters had already disarmed Sir Margath and his two companions.

The young Prince realized with shock that the youngest of Margath's men, Gareth, was down on the ground with a sword point at his throat. Baffled by the situation Arthur held his sword up self-consciously but his two attackers didn't stir.

"Who are you?" he yelled. "What do you want from us? If this is meant as a challenge, show your faces!" Arthur inwardly sneered at himself. If this had been an official challenge from one knight to the other they wouldn't have hidden their identity in the first place.

"For the last time, My Prince, you are the only one we need alive, so surrender or your friends die." The tall knight in the black armoury seemed to be the leader.

"Sire, get away from here" Margath shouted and earned himself a blow on the head which sent him to the ground, gasping with pain.

This did it. Pendragon threw away his weapons and raised his hands. "All right then, you've got me, leave my men alone. No need for more bloodshed. At least not until my father hears of this."

While one of his opponents held him in check the other one opened his helmet and gripped Arthur's hands to tie his wrists. The Prince hit the man directly into his face and he fell to the ground, grasping his broken nose. The other one pushed his sword towards Arthur's throat who pulled back until his back met the tree behind him.

"Stop that! Are you mad?" His leader's command made the attacker pause but Pendragon could still feel the sword point touch his skin. He flinched when he heard Gareth yelp in pain.

"Leave him be. I will come with you, willingly, you have my word. There's no need to tie me up like a common criminal."

Meanwhile the leader had strolled over to him. He took off his helmet and Pendragon saw a face that was virtually covered in masses of grey-brown beard and hair. The man's piercing ice-blue eyes were his most significant feature. "Sorry, Your Highness, can't be done" he said, very friendly. "You're worth a King's ransom and I will not put that at risk to serve your whims. Either my friend here binds you as he sees fit or your men are history. You choose."

Arthur saw the blades pressing into the other knights' throats or chests. „What kind of a knight are you? This is disgraceful!"

"I am the kind of knight who has to eat and drink. For that I need money, the kind of money you are worth. Your men, as I said before, are not worth a farthing."

Arthur lowered his head in defeat and when the other man came back for him he didn't resist. It was only too obvious that only his leader's presence prevented the man from taking revenge for his broken nose then and there. As it was, he made a very thorough job of tying Pendragon's hands behind his back and fixing them to his waist before he threw another rope around Arthur's neck.

"Take your filthy hands off him" Margath yelled and tried to get up. He came as far as to his knees before the blade of the bandit who guarded him cut through his throat.

"_No_!" Pendragon tried to break free but the leash around his neck was pulled tight immediately and strangled him until he had no other choice but to hold still. "You will live to regret this, you brutal swine!" he said hoarsely. "This was senseless. He couldn't harm you!"

"Perhaps, but every second this futile resistance continuous it could harm _you_" the bandit replied serenely. "And as I said, we will be paid rather nicely for capturing you in one piece."

With that he pulled a scarf and a piece of cloth out of his pocket and gagged his prisoner despite his resistance. The stranger contemplated the Prince appraisingly before he turned to his men.

"I think we're done here. Finish them off!

The tone of that order had been that blasé and casual that Arthur didn't get it's meaning at first. Only after they had been killed he understood that this remark had referred to his two remaining young knights.

Stunned by the useless brutality he watched the bandits clean their swords before they turned to the horses. They ripped off every sign that designated the animals as Camelot property and tied them to their own animals.

"I take it you will prefer your own horse." The bandit leader took the end of the leash and Arthur had no other choice but to follow the rope's pull. They tied the rope to the saddle horn of his horse and his feet to the stirrups before the leader took up the bridles and led the horse to follow his own. They crossed the clearing, giving Pendragon a last opportunity to look at his dead men. The shock and anguish which were frozen in their faces made him sick as the forest engulfed him on their way westwards. He turned in the saddle once as far as his restraints allowed, thinking he had heard a muffled outcry somewhere in the brushwood. But he couldn't see anything and his captors didn't seem to mind.

Considering the utmost care the rogue knights took to cover their tracks Arthur gave up any hope that someone would find out his whereabouts any time soon. Some hours later they crossed Camelot's border unseen and unheard.

The ride seemed endless. The moment in which the restraints had changed from a nuisance into a torment had long passed before the leader ordered a halt. The sun had set a while ago and a blue velvet summer night dawned. Under the trees it was already very dark.

Pendragon didn't even think of screaming but fought for every breath after they had finally pulled off the gag. When a canteen was put to his lips he gulped down the water as fast as they would let him.

Surprisingly the rogue knights' leader gave him ample time to recover before he tried to clog his captive's mouth once again with the rag. "Come on, son, hold still!"

With a violent jerk of his head Arthur shook off the man's hand. "Take your hands off me, you filthy pig."

The radiant eyes didn't even blink. The leader took a firmer hold of Arthur's face and forced the rag back in, deep enough to make him retch. After he had secured it once more with the scarf the man lunged out and slapped the prisoner's face. Not very hard but enough to make his point.

"Alive and in one piece I said, nothing more! So don't make this harder on yourself than it already is." To Arthur's dismay the stranger shackled his wrists behind his back with metal handcuffs which he additionally fastened to his waist before he cut through the ropes. "I know you weren't knighted for your title only. But other than from the ropes not even you will break free from these pretty manacles." He grinned in genuine amusement when he heard his captive moan in frustration while he also cuffed Arthur's ankles tightly together. Subsequently he searched for a stable branch of the nearest tree and tied the leash's end around it, safely out of Arthur's reach. "Have a good night. If all goes well you'll see the last of us tomorrow, when our employers come to pick you up!"

Pendragon furiously fought against his restraints once his captors had left him alone, humiliatingly confident that he had no chance whatsoever to free himself. When he finally gave up the mismatched fight between human flesh and solid iron he was covered in sweat.

His mind went back to his dead men, their faces coming to him from the dark, frozen in the anguish of their last moments. Young, good-humoured Gareth with his child-like dimples, always ready to laugh, Anwar who had silently mourned for Morgana after she had been taken from Camelot, thinking that his feelings were a well hidden secret while they had been plainly written in his face for everyone to see. And finally Sir Margath, Arthur's teacher at the sword who had trained his Prince until even King Uther had found nothing to criticise – all of a sudden the old mantra that no man is worth your tears sounded hollow and embarrassingly inadequate. They _did_ deserve them, and much more.

Unable to express his rage and grief Arthur found his sole consolation in the thought that at least his servant had escaped death. It still seemed like a miracle that Merlin hadn't been back from searching firewood at the time of the attack. Ever since the young man had accompanied his Prince into the fight against the Great Dragon and had come back with him Arthur had, if only to himself, given up pretending that Merlin was anything but his best friend. The mere thought that his clumsy, defenceless official manservant and unofficial close companion could have been among those recklessly slaughtered sickened the Prince until he choked under his gag.

The night seemed to drag on endlessly until, in the first dawn, another group of knights reached the makeshift camp. The 'employers' had come to claim their prey.


	2. Overstepping the mark

**Ghosts from an ignominious past**

Disclaimer: All characters from the series belong to the BBC, only the others, dead or alive , belong to me.

**2. Overstepping the mark**

"Over here, Sire! Come quickly!"

Panting, with his heart racing in a chest that had seldom felt so cramped, King Uther ran towards where Sir Leon had knelt down, bent over a lean male body that lay on the leave covered ground as if it were a broken toy, casually discarded for its uselessness.

Only as he came nearer Pendragon could see by the worn out pants and boots that this could not be his son. Instead he recognized the pale, bloodied face of Arthur's servant. The peculiar boy who always dangled after his master like a singular mixture of a clumsy, love-needing puppy and a protective watchdog. Quite obviously Merlin's fierce loyalty and unselfish bravery had not sufficed to save his young master this time.

"Even him they must have killed _after_ Arthur had surrendered" Uther moaned in aghast incomprehension. "Dear Gods, what heartless bastard slaughters an unarmed servant boy for the fun of it?"

Leon furtively grazed his King's appalled face with some astonishment. Usually Uther Pendragon wasn't in the habit of mourning a servant's fate. "He's alive, Sire. This surely was a mace's hit, but it merely scraped his head."

Only now the King saw the pulse that fluttered under the white skin of the throat and suddenly Pendragon became all business.

"He mustn't be moved before Gaius has had an opportunity to look him over. Bring a few blankets to keep him warm and …..."

"Please excuse me" with these nervous words the King found himself shoved aside by a very concerned Court Physician.

Completely oblivious of the men who gathered around him Gaius examined the young warlock with trembling hands. Three months Merlin and his young master had been away, as the Crown Prince had visited the biggest baronies and urban settlements of the realm one by one, to strengthen their ties to the Crown. Arthur had taken on this annual task for the first time without his father.

Gaius had detested their departure. As much as he understood the need to pacify and flatter the nobles and big merchants instead of intimidating them, the healer had always hated it when Uther had ridden out with an escort of three or four knights at most. Unexpectedly Gaius had found it much harder to watch the young Prince ride out with three knights and Merlin as his only companions.

The message of Arthur and his men being overdue had pulled him out of a deep but troubled sleep that had been disturbed by an awkward dream. He couldn't recall it but it had left him with a feeling of gloom and fearful apprehension he couldn't shake off. Without asking anyone's permission he had taken a horse from Arthur's stables and had followed the King and his knights who had made haste to apprehend the Prince on his way home.

Gaius' nimble, sensitive finger tips now pried Merlin's eyes open and palpated the head. With an almost sickening feeling of relief he realized that the bones had not been shattered by the mace's impact and that there were no obvious signs of brain damage. Whether this was true or not only time could tell. The knowledge that his beloved foster son had a fair chance to fully recover from his latest plight made the physician's sense of duty and propriety kick back in.

"Forgive me, Sire for not tending to Prince Arthur first. Where is he?" Now suddenly astonished that Arthur wasn't there, in his somehow natural place at Merlin's side the healer began to scramble to his feet until Uther's hand stopped him.

"You can stay with the boy, Arthur isn't here any more." Uther said it with an artificial calmness that revealed more of his feelings than in concealed. The implications of this short statement made Gaius' heart sink.

"You don't mean the Prince is...?" he said and his stunned gaze wandered from one man to the other, both searching for a confirmation and not wanting to hear it.

As Uther kept silent, his look stubbornly fastened on Merlin's waxen, blood-smeared face, Leon cleared his throat when the silence became offensive. "Obviously the Prince has been kidnapped. His weapons are there but his body is the only one missing, all the others are accounted for."

"Bodies?" Gaius whispered hoarsely. "Margath, Gareth...are you telling me they are all _dead_?"

Leon wanted to answer but this time the King prevented him. Facing the bewildered physician with an angry glare he snapped "yes, dead. Seems they were used as hostages to force my son to surrender and after the foolish boy had given himself up they all were killed nevertheless."

His voice now became more and more aggressive, unwittingly giving away the rage and worry that nagged away at the usual rigid restraint he preferred to show in public. He jumped to his feet and pointed angrily at Merlin. "If Arthur had abandoned them while he still had a chance he might be in Camelot right now. Even this little idiot here might have come off unharmed. But naturally my august son had to play the hero! Now look where his misguided gallantry has brought us to."

Gaius flinched when he heard the young warlock being called an idiot for the umpteenth time. To hear the father slander his own son for his brave attempt to save his knights' lives grieved him too and, while a hundred different implications of what this abduction could mean tumbled through his head, all his original weariness came back to him. He knew that the same pictures of what an overly proud but defenceless hostage might be suffering from his captors' hands must torture Uther a hundred times more than they would torment an old healer who had helped to bring Arthur into this world.

Nevertheless for the very first time, after a lifetime of loyal service and acquiescent friendship, Gaius no longer wanted to grant admission for Uther Pendragon's ruthless, self-centred ways.

With growing anger he watched the King pace impatiently like a caged animal would do, looking for a way out that didn't exist. Suddenly Uther stopped in mid-stride. "Maybe the servant has seen something that could be of help to us. It's imperative that you wake him up as soon as possible, Gaius, is that understood?"

"Naturally, Sire!" The healer's voice was unusually crisp and cold. "Thanks for reminding me of this necessity."

"I'll arrange for Merlin being transferred, as well as for the bodies being brought home to Camelot for funeral" Leon said, awkwardly aware of the tension that was building up between the King and, of all people, his always loyal and overly correct Court Physician.

Uther nodded curtly, his thoughts quite obviously on somewhat else. "Send also word to Camelot that this girl who used to serve the Lady Morgana, what's her name, Gina, Gundula...?"

"Guinivere, Sire" Leon offered while Gaius impatiently rolled his eyes towards heaven behind Uther's back.

"Yes, yes, yes, she's dispensable anyway since Morgana is no longer there, she can make herself useful assisting Gaius with Mer... with Arthur's servant."

"Very well, Your Grace." The knight pressed the inevitable acknowledgement through tensed jaws while he thought of the look on Arthur's face every time his eyes beheld the young woman. Surely the younger Pendragon didn't see someone dispensable when he looked at her. In fact, Leon would gamble all he had on his assumption that this young Lady was the most indispensable person in Arthur's life.

"You don't know much about your son, My Lord, do you?" Leon thought while he nodded and went to inform his men about what was to happen.

They reached Camelot almost a day later, as Gaius insisted that Merlin's injury forbade a speedy ride.

Later the Physician was oblivious to the commotion the King's return, the search parties he ordered and the Council meetings he assembled caused. Unfortunately, tending to the young warlock allowed him ample time to think about what might be happening to the other side of the coin that was the unlikely blend of a magician and a Pendragon. He also thought about how many times one of them, but mostly both of them, had been in mortal danger. How many times it had been for the one or the other of Uther's old sins. For the King's recklessness. Or for his mindless cruelty. Or for some of the other flaws which slowly but surely drowned the reputation and trustworthiness of what once had been a fine, indeed a very fine, ruler.

Gaius looked at Merlin's still face and sighed. When would it end? And where? In a graveyard for the one and a pompous monument for the other, their friendship being ignored in death as it had been in life while the heartless rules of Court Protocol prevailed?

His miserable musings were interrupted by the door to the infirmary banging against the wall while somebody rushed inside in a gust of wind as impatient as the person who had caused it.

"Gaius" she said. "What has happened? Nobody tells me anything except that I was to come here in an awful haste."

"You seem to be still in it, my dear" Gaius kindly replied while he took Guinivere's fidgeting hands into his. "There has been some kind of an accident. It seems that Arthur and his men were caught up in an attack and Merlin was injured in the process. The King was considerate enough to think that I could use your assistance."

Only now she noticed Merlin's still body on the bed and she gasped in horrified surprise. "Is he...?"

"No, he's alive" Gaius assured her. "And he will recover given ample time, of that I am sure."

"You tell me what to do, I'll help you any way I can" she said, still shaken. "Arthur is with his father then? He'll come here later to see Merlin?"

The healer looked into her radiant dark eyes and silently cursed his bad luck. Trust the others that they would leave the dispensable honour of telling her that the young man she adored was unaccounted for to the last link in the chain.

"Gwen, Arthur has been abducted. Nobody knows by whom or where to or why he has been taken but he obviously discarded his weapons willingly, by the way they have been found."

With her face slowly transforming into a mask of disbelief and rejection she pulled away from him and began to shake her head. "No" she whispered. "No, this can't be true, the others never would have allowed this to happen. There must be a misunderstanding..."

"The escort knights are dead. They must have been vastly outnumbered as they obviously had been disarmed and pinned down before they were murdered. They never stood a chance!"

As she continued to shake her head in resistance to what he was telling her Gaius continued to talk rapidly until he actually began to babble. "He is still alive, Gwen. Why else should they have taken such trouble to capture him when they could have shot him from behind? The Prince of Camelot is too valuable a hostage to be killed. Surely we are going to hear from them any time now, a ransom note, some demands..." Finally he pulled her trembling body into a hug, not knowing what else to do.

"Gaius? Gwen?" an unsteady voice whispered laboriously and with an outcry Gwen turned to the bed, Gaius being at her side.

"Merlin, my boy" the Physician said and the young warlock took his hurting head in both hands at the sound.

"Please...please keep it down...ouch...what has...oh Gods..." The experienced healer held the small bucket he kept for such events under Merlin's head while the young man retched his heart out. When the fit was over the warlock fell back on his pillow, panting, his face covered in cold sweat. He blinked, obviously disoriented but suddenly his eyes focused on a spot in mid-air. "No! Arthur... Margath...I have to...!" and he tried to pull himself upright.

Gaius pressed him back down. "Gwen, go and fetch the King!"

"But he is..."

"I give a damn what he is, Merlin shouldn't be like that a moment longer than absolutely necessary, so go and fetch the man, _now_!"

As it were, Gaius hardly had time to calm his ward down sufficiently to keep him in bed and make him swallow one of the potions he had had ready. Uther stormed through the door, directly to the young man's side who looked at him with wide eyes, already silently pleading for forgiveness for a sin nobody but himself thought he had committed.

"Your Grace, forgive me, I have forsaken him, I came too late to save him, I..."

"You and which army?" Uther asked. "Much difference it had made if you had ran to the battle scene, defending my son with your firewood and your idiocy!"

"But Sire I could have used my..."

In the very last split of a second Merlin realized whom he was talking to and about what and the sudden fright made him suck the air through his clenched teeth. Gaius suddenly ghostly white face he overlooked.

"What did you see? Any clues as to the attackers' identity? Was Arthur injured when they dragged him away? Did they say what they want from us? For heaven's sake, _speak_ man!" He started to shake the young warlock's shoulders until Gaius' firm hands stopped him resolutely. "What do you think you are doing, Sire?"

For once oblivious to the offensive behaviour of a subordinate while his whole being was in the grip of a much greater worry Uther let go of the young man's shoulders immediately.

"They wore no crest or other sign of identity" Merlin said as loud as he could and it brought the others' attention back to him at once. "When I approached the clearing, Arthur was already bound and gagged and the others were dead. They forced him to mount a horse and rode off. I wanted to run to him but I must have been knocked out from behind." Merlin fell back to his bed, completely exhausted. "I don't know anything else" he whispered. "Is Arthur save? Have you found them in time?"

The King shook his head in dismay. "No, so far we couldn't find a trace of him or his captors."

He rose and straightened his back. "Well, that was hardly worth the wait! We'll have to look elsewhere for some useful information." His gaze came to rest on the warlock's face again which had grief and guilt written all over it. "Frankly, I've never understood how the two of you could become inseparable, being as much alike as day and night. But as my son doubtlessly will have need of his mascot as soon as he's back, you'll better come back to your feet quickly!"

Uther Pendragon turned towards the door, his neck erect and his shoulders stiff. "Seems like a miracle that _your_ boy came out of it with only a bad concussion, Gaius."

The bitterness of these parting words belied the feigned confidence and optimism of his former remark to everyone who gave a damn for the King's feelings.

But from the three persons he left behind only Merlin did. For where the two others had heard another unprovoked insult the 'mascot' himself had heard an acknowledgement that had been craved for a long, long time.


	3. The magician and the beast

**Ghosts from an ignominious past**

Disclaimer: All characters from the series belong to the BBC, only the others, dead or alive , belong to me.

A/N: Thanks for your kind reviews, they always make my day.

To ruby890: For once this chapter will show not Uther the bastard but Uther the man. I hope you'll like it anyway.

**3. The magician and the beast**

Merlin padded down the stairs which led to Camelot's main yard, listless in the midday heat of this fine day in early September.

He looked around carefully, making sure that Guinivere was nowhere to be seen. The last thing he would have liked right now was another encounter with his friend. He knew he was behaving base and shabbily but he just couldn't stand her fruitless deliberations and speculations any more. They resembled his own endless train of thought too much, which, like Gwen's, led nowhere.

Three months since Arthur had been taken away, every stone in the Kingdom turned, every favour Uther had been entitled to called in and still no sign. No ransom notes, no demands, nothing.

Merlin hated the gloom which slowly but surely began to cover all of the city and the citadel as, step by step, people began losing hope.

Gaius was in his room, dreading the next morning's Council session. His old friend Geoffrey, Uther's head clerk, had told him in advance that the Council members were going to urge the King to rearrange the succession act. Merlin felt an atypical rage building up inside him. That easy, huh? Count Arthur out, time to open the dance anew, after all there was a Crown for a prize!

Merlin had eavesdropped as the two old friends had talked it over. So there were some barons with a drop of royal blood in their veins, albeit legend had it that not all families had reason to be proud of the ways they had come by it. They all had sons, naturally. They all would beseech the tormented King to choose a new heir from the ranks of these sons.

Merlin crossed the yard and headed towards Arthur's stables. He had made it a habit to tend to the Prince's horses and dogs whenever Gaius let him. Somehow he felt close to his friend as long as he was there, among the animals. They seemed to feel as abandoned and useless as he felt himself.

The young warlock snorted contemptuously while he remembered Gaius' and Geoffrey's talks. They actually had lowered themselves to discussing the strengths and flaws of some of the likely candidates for the great Prince of Camelot Contest that was afoot.

Unwittingly Merlin began an angry chatter with himself. "As if one of these spoiled brats could ever hope to hold a candle to Arthur Pendragon. Aristocratic prats. Clotpoles, the lot of them."

In his frustration he tossed the brushes and forks through the stable aisle until a brush hit a polished pair of boots.

Slowly Merlin's gaze wandered from the boots to the legs inside them, then to the elegant coat and the sword belt around the waist. The beautiful weapon was unmistakable.

"Your Majesty" he muttered. "I didn't see you before."

"That much is obvious!" Uther said. "I heard you have taken a liking to these premises, but is it necessary to mess the stables up in order to have an excuse to stay in here?"

Merlin only shrugged. He tried to smile but his face wasn't as flexible as a real courtier's features would be. He couldn't lie with it.

"So, a few days more and you will know who is going to be your next master. The dogs, I am afraid, will have to be put down, they wouldn't accept another Prince as easily."

"As won't I" Merlin said heatedly, with all the defiance he could muster. Without thinking he fully faced the King, looking straight into the steel-grey eyes without so much as blinking. "I will return to Ealdor, once this impo...the new Prince is crowned!"

"Just like that? You are so sure you can decide that all on your own?"

The warlock felt his cheeks grow hot. "I was a free man when I came two years ago and I am a free man now" he said, unwittingly straightening his back until he stood as tall as he really was. "I maybe a lowly peasant in your eyes but I am free enough to choose my own master and I will not serve another!"

"Not even me?"

The short question hit home with considerable ferocity. Breathlessly Merlin gawked at Pendragon's unreadable face.

"Sire, I won't...I mean I would never have thought... I mean" and while he still stammered, pictures were conjured up by his dumbfounded mind, pictures of a servant being tied to a stake on a pyre for using magic on the royal chamber pot while the King of Camelot was still on it.

"I thought Your Grace has always considered me an idiot" was all he finally managed to say.

"It didn't bother my son. What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. What say you? Not that I'm sure I can live up to the high standards you demand of a master."

Merlin swallowed hard. "I...I...would you give me some time to think this over?"

Uther cocked a brow. "You know, this isn't very flattering. Others would jump at the opportunity."

"I know, Your Majesty." Merlin desperately wished for a hole in the ground big enough to swallow him, here and now. "But I am somewhat confused..."

"Aren't you always?"

When Merlin only stared at him, a helpless plea in his eyes, Uther chuckled.

"Very well, it shall be as you wish. You can give me your final decision the day the new Prince of Camelot is crowned."

He turned to leave and suddenly Merlin's heart cramped in his chest.

"Sire, why are you doing this? It has been only three months. He could still be alive, held prisoner, waiting for our help..." When Uther faced him again, Merlin's voice trailed off under the intent stare.

"I know that" Uther said. "And I will not abandon the search. But the realm needs an heir. I am only a mortal after all."

Merlin's arms fell. He shook his head but he did so silently.

Already in the door the King turned round once more. "You know, if you were to stay, as my servant or as a servant to the new Crown Prince, we could sometimes have a talk, about all these royal prats and clotpoles we have known in our lives."

Merlin just stood there and stared, long after the King had left.


	4. The horse dealer's tale

**Ghosts from an ignominious past**

**4. The horse dealer's tale**

Lost in thought the magician continued tending to the horses and to clean an already impeccable stable. Afterwards he played with the dogs. Besides Arthur himself he was the only one they readily accepted in their midst, without snarling and growling. Uther was right. They would have to go before the new Crown Prince claimed these premises as his.

Suddenly Merlin couldn't stand their soft, trusting eyes and their tender paws any more. Wiping some embarrassing moisture from his face he left the sanctuary of the stables and made his way back to Gaius' quarters.

The sun was already low in the sky and her light blinded him momentarily. He almost lost his balance when he bumped into someone.

"Watch out!" the small, dark haired man with the vaguely familiar face snapped indignantly. "How should I meet the King if my tunic is dirty?" and he began to frantically brush imaginary dust off what had to be his finest set of clothes. The gesture brought recognition.

"Malantuis" Merlin said with all the kindness he could muster in his miserable mood. "What brings you here? If you have come to sell another horse to Prince Arthur, you've come at the wrong time."

"Wouldn't I know?" Malantuis replied. "But who are you to say what I can or cannot do?" He straightened his scrawny back and did his best to look down on Merlin who, alas, was at least 15 centimetres taller than the horse dealer.

"Prince Arthur's servant, aren't you? But my business must lie with the King, his father! I can't deal with the likes of you in matters of state!" and he puffed up his chest as far as possible while his gaze wandered over the busy yard, quite obviously searching for somebody worthier of his august company.

Uncharacteristically Merlin took immediate offence at the pompous behaviour. This idiot was all he needed today, of all days. After all, the last time the horse dealer had done business with Arthur, Merlin had had a tough job to prevent the Prince being cheated into buying a second rate mare for a more than first rate price!

"All right then" the warlock said mischievously. "If it is His Grace you want to see then it will be His Grace whom I will bring you to. Follow me!"

"Maybe" he thought while he most submissively led the stalking peacock to Arthur's chambers with all possible deference "just maybe the jackass will learn a lesson in politeness if I leave him at Arthur's door and he has to find his way out on his own! Or maybe he can pull off this little show about matters of state to one of the knights! Let's see where _that_ would bring him to!"

Still somewhat lost in his ill-tempered musings Merlin once more bumped into someone. For the second time in one day he looked up, directly into Uther's now not very friendly eyes. The King had just left his son's quarters, closely followed by Gaius.

"My, isn't that the Lord of Clumsiness again. Boy, are you making it a habit to knock me over in my own castle?"

"N...n...no, Sire" the dumbfounded wizard stammered while Gaius glared at him in his usual mixture of worry and anger. But Merlin had no need to think of a better answer because he found himself shoved aside by a most grand and blasè Malantuis.

The horse dealer began to bow and scrape around the King in a most ostentatious manner. For the knowledge alone of what it would cost the man it would have been a pleasure to behold for the insulted warlock had he not been standing _that_ close to Uther's imminent explosion.

"Your Majesty" Malantuis finally chimed in. "I am most honoured to be in your presence. You must forgive my mundane appearance but I wouldn't waste another moment before I could bring you news from Tintagel. About your son!"

For the next few seconds the four of them in the otherwise deserted corridor could have heard a needle falling to the floor. This time the King was the first to react. "Come with me, all of you!"

He grabbed Malantius' arm and shoved him unceremoniously into Arthur's rooms. He banged the door shut and bolted it from the inside as soon as Gaius and Merlin had slipped in.

"Now, tell me what do you know about my son?" Only now, as the last rays of sunlight fell on him, the others could see that his face was drained of all blood, waxen.

Nervously Malantuis looked at the bolted door, then at the sheathed sword and knife at Uther's side. Surely he had imagined another sort of welcome for his message.

"Well, Sire, as I said, I have been to Tintagel, as I sometimes do. This time I wanted to buy some of their special breed of working horses. You know, one needs a permit to trade in Tintagel, castle or dukedom, if one is not a subject of the realm and while I was searching for their Master of Horses I entered their stables. And what did I see?"

Without noticing it he wiped the cold sweat from his face before he looked once more at the King's enigmatic face.

"In one of the stands was Stormcloud, My Lord. No doubt about it."

"Stormcloud?" Pendragon's voice was flat, seemingly emotionless.

"Yes Sire, you remember the fine stallion I sold to you a year ago? He was to be your gift to your son."

"Go on!"

Malantuis shrugged, now feeling more at ease. "Naturally I was curious as to how your son's horse would come all this way to Tintagel and I wandered around a bit and finally I made it to one of the backyards . While I was still hidden in the shadow under some columns I saw the Duke coming out of the castle. Some of his soldiers dragged a prisoner in the yard. I almost rolled backwards as I recognized him. It was Prince Arthur, Sire!"

Merlin felt his heart miss a beat for sheer surprise and relief. So Arthur was alive!

"Could you be mistaken?" Uther still seemed unnaturally calmly.

"No My Lord, it was him. I could see your son's face as clearly as I can see yours now. It was him, no doubt about it."

"What happened then?"

For some reason the horse dealer seemed to be irritated by this question. His face flushed and paled in turns and he suddenly avoided the King's eyes.

"I wouldn't know. I...I didn't wait. I made haste to come away without being seen. I shuddered at the thought of what they would do to me if I was caught. It's no small thing to make the Crown Prince of Camelot a prisoner!"

Malantuis shrugged once again and actually dared a furtive smile at the others. "Well, the next day I finalised my deals and made haste to come to you, My Lord. It's a three weeks ride from Tintagel to Camelot for a humble traveller like me, and, well, here I am!" His smile became broader and somehow expectant.

Uther interpreted the expression correctly and his face showed sudden contempt which battled with a sort of unwilling gratitude.

Merlin couldn't restrain himself any longer. "Was Arthur all right when you saw him? Was he injured?"

If possible Gaius looked even more horrified than before when Merlin interrupted the King's interrogation of the horse dealer with his questions.

However Uther pushed the horse dealer roughly as Malantuis chose to ignore the young warlock.

"You heard him! Was my son injured?"

The horse dealer collected the last shreds of his dignity around him and smoothed his tunic while he glared at Merlin.

"No, Sire, at least not for what I was able to see. He showed traces of some rough handling but no real injuries! He stood there, bold as brass although they had cuffed his hands behind his back and put a gag in his mouth."

Uther rubbed his chin in thought. Suddenly he seemed to come to a decision. Once more he exchanged a meaningful look with Gaius who shook his head vehemently as if in answer to an unspoken question.

"Merlin, bring our good friend Malantuis to the treasurer" the King said. "He is to receive 500 gold coins for his troubles. He will leave Camelot immediately afterwards. He is not to speak to anyone about what he told us right now, on pain of death. Under no circumstances is anyone to know that Arthur has been seen in Tintagel, is that understood?"

"Yes, Sire!" The horse dealer stammered his answer while Merlin only bowed his head in acknowledgement. 500 gold coins were a princely sum indeed. More than enough to smooth the shock even of a death threat.

"And Merlin?"

"Sire?"

"Let him take Arthur's horses too. If anybody asks, he has taken them because I intended to clear the stables for their new owner!"

While Malantuis greedy smile became even broader everything in Merlin revolted against the very thought. "Sire, we've just heard that Arthur is alive, why..." but that was as far as he came before the King glared at him. With the cold eyes and a face made of stone, the man Merlin had met in the stables only a few hours ago was completely gone. The total lack of joy or relief at the news of his son's survival was almost inhuman and suddenly it frightened Merlin more than anything else Uther had ever done. A whole lifetime wouldn't be enough to understand this man.

"I've given you an order and I expect my orders to be obeyed! Now do as you are told" the King snapped before he unbolted the door and shoved them both outside.

While he reluctantly turned to lead the happily chattering horse dealer to the treasurer Merlin heard raised voices through the door. He would have given much to hear what Gaius and Uther were yelling at each other but for once he was intimidated enough by Uther's inexplicable rage to just do as he had been told.

"That has been a worthwhile trip for the slimy scoundrel" Merlin thought while he watched Malantuis ride away with all the horses from the Prince's stables in tow.

Seeing the beautiful animals leave made the warlock's stomach turn. Arthur loved his horses. Merlin had often grinned to himself while his royal friend secretly caressed the animals with a tenderness and fondness he rarely ever showed to humans.

The warlock found some meagre satisfaction in the fact that he had, acting on impulse, taken the brown gelding Arthur had assigned to him from the Prince's stables. The horse was now in an empty stand in the main stables, directly alongside Sir Leon's favourite mount. He knew the kind knight wouldn't mind.

Inside the pockets of his jacket Merlin clenched his fists. He had no idea whatsoever of why Uther proceeded as if he had never heard that his son was alive, a prisoner in some godforsaken place, doubtlessly waiting for help that didn't come.

The wizard blinked off some angry tears while his over-imaginative mind conjured up some unwelcome images. _Three_ months, for heaven's sake! And a three weeks ride, at least. They had dragged him half across the country. What had they done to him to prevent Camelot's best warrior from escaping during a ride that long? Had they kept him bound and gagged for all this time?

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin!" It was almost as if he could hear Arthur say it. The wizard snorted inwardly. "Bold as brass, indeed!" Involuntarily he shuddered at the thought what this defiance might have cost a defenceless captive.

Why wasn't there a rescue party assembling even now, making ready to depart this very evening, to bring him back home? Where was Camelot's power, now that it was _him_ for once who was in need of help, not the other way round?

"Merlin?" Her tentative hand touched his shoulder. "What are they doing? Why does this man take Arthur's horses away?"

Without thinking at all he gave the answer he had been ordered to give.

"Because King Uther wants the stables cleared, for their new owner! The dogs will have to go too in a few days, I think!"

He heard her gasp, just once. It was enough to let him realize what he had done. "Gwen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he turned around to face her and saw that it was too late for all the "sorry" in the world.

"You must be proud" she said while she backed away from him as if he had the plague. "Such an efficient work, and so fast. No doubt it will do you credit when you crawl to your new master for some crumbs like an obedient dog!"

He reached for her arms. "Gwen, don't say that. You don't know..."

"Oh, but I do know. Life has to go on, hasn't it. And its so much easier if we all pretend that he has never lived, never laughed or loved, its so much easier, isn't it, you god-damned, bloody coward!"

Now he took her arms and shook her. "Gwen, come out of this..."

The slap that hit his face came out of the blue. Her black eyes, radiant with rage and contempt gazed into his mortified face. "Don't you dare touch me!" she hissed. "Don't you dare. You are too filthy for that!"

She turned abruptly and ran away from him as if pursued by a bunch of devils.

"Guinivere" Merlin called helplessly. "Gwen..."

When she didn't turn he ran after her. Suddenly what she thought of him, of his loyalty to their mutual friend, was the most important thing in the world. After a few steps he caught up with her and stopped her by grabbing her arm. "Gwen, please, its not as you think. I don't know why Uther is behaving like this, I just couldn't do anything to prevent it."

She held her gaze stubbornly on the ground but her shoulders began to tremble and he could see that the hot rage, so unnatural in her from the start, had already left her.

"It is too much" she finally whispered. "First my father, then Morgana and now..."

The young wizard pulled her into a hug and she pressed her face into his shoulder. "Merlin, what shall I do? I cannot live without him! I know that there really is no 'we" for the two of us, that we aren't meant to be and yet... How can he just give up on him that fast? His own father! I really thought at least his son meant something to him. Even after he had my father killed I thought he might have some feeling left in him, but he is completely heartless. Where others have a heart he has a crown and nothing else!"

Merlin did his best to follow her rambling, feverish talk while he tried to soothe her, muttering the first words that came into his head until she suddenly raised her head and wiped her face with small, angry movements. "I am sorry" she whispered, flushed from crying as well as by embarrassment. She pulled herself free from his embrace, avoiding his gaze. "I am sorry" she said again. "I shouldn't have...forgive me!"

Once more she turned to run away towards her empty house and this time he didn't follow her.

With a heavy heart he went home. Maybe Gaius could provide him with a few answers. The warlock definitely felt he deserved some, if only for Gwen's sake. It would mean the world to her if she were to hear that Arthur was at least alive but as things were even Merlin, the champion of disobedience in Arthur's opinion, didn't dare to spill the beans to his friend just like that.

Fortunately Gaius was at home when the warlock arrived. The moment he had closed the infirmary door behind him Merlin blurted out what had been foremost on his mind ever since Malantuis had revealed Arthur's whereabouts. "Gaius, I'm going. I will find Arthur and I will bring him back. I'll leave tomorrow morning, at dawn. Could you give me some direction as to where this Tita...Twinta..."

"Tintagel" Gaius said while he was rummaging through his things. "It's the main stronghold, the capital of the Dukes of Cornwall and under no circumstances you are to go there, so you better get that off your head, at once!"

"What do you mean, I'm not going?" Merlin asked aghast. "Naturally I'll go. Somebody has to help Arthur escape from there and as quite obviously for reasons beyond human understanding neither his father nor you are willing to do anything about it, I..."

"Merlin, I said you will not go and I meant every word of it!" Never before Gaius had spoken to the young warlock like that. Nor glared at him, at that.

Suddenly intimidated for the second time in one night the wizard faltered somwhat. "But Gaius, I thought you of all people would understand..." until some of his original anger returned to him when Gaius just continued to throw stuff into the large bag he had put on the table.

"Well, I'll go anyway. Maybe in the meantime you can talk some sense into this heartless monster of a father!"

"Stop it!" Gaius shouted, clearly at the end of his tether. "You have no idea what you are talking about! If it weren't for Uther's fear for his son's life the knights would be getting ready this very instant. But there is more to this than you can imagine and I have no time at all to explain these things to you!"

"Why don't you have time?" Merlin stammered, shocked and appalled by what had been the first genuine scolding he had got from his ever patient, kind mentor.

"Because _I'm_ on my way to Tintagel right now and I really have no time left for a boy who's overrating himself, trying to bite off more than he could ever hope to chew. It's bad enough that one of you is already trapped in Duke Yvain's stronghold, I have no appetite for seeing both of you in his clutches."

"You? You and which army?" the disbelieving warlock unwittingly repeated one of Uther's favourite aphorisms.

Gaius had finished packing and now he turned to face his ward. He sighed in a mixture of exasperation and sympathy when he spotted the hurt in the warlock's widened, uncomprehending eyes.

"I am sorry Merlin. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. But, believe me, an army would be the last thing that could help Arthur. One small band of our soldiers approaches the stronghold and Arthur will either be taken farer away or killed. Besides Uther and Geoffrey I am the only one in Camelot who has at least some idea what this abduction might be about, and thanks be to the Gods that nobody else knows. And you wouldn't really want Geoffrey to ride down to the Cornish Coast, would you?"

Merlin's always ready over-active imagination conjured up a picture of Geoffrey, asking someone on the road for the way, only to head in the opposite direction until his rheumatism would dismount him. Slowly he shook his head.

Gaius heaved a sigh of relief. "There you are then!" he stated. "That leaves me to do the job, doesn't it?"

However, this logic didn't convince the warlock at all. "Why isn't anybody to know that Arthur is alive and that he's kept in this damned castle against his will? Shouldn't the council members know that they still have a Crown Prince before they make haste to search for a new one? And why do you have to go alone? Why doesn't Uther go? Can't you see that nothing of this makes any sense at all?"

Gaius lowered his head wearily before he laid his hand on the young warlock's shoulder. "Merlin, I am sorry. I really regret this and I will make it up to you as soon as I am back, I promise. But right now, I have to make sure that you do as I say. And Uther is right. There is only one way to do that."

Before Merlin could say anything the healer banged against the door and shouted "guards!"

"What..." the wizard yelled when two bulky guards came in and grabbed him.

"You have your orders" Gaius said. "Bring him to the dungeons. He is to see no one until the King orders his release."

The older guard nodded and wrapped his arm around Merlin's neck while the other one twisted the young man's arm behind his back.

Gaius heard his protests echoing from the walls before a suppressed gasp told him that one of the guards must have pressed his hand on the young warlock's mouth.

For a second the physician pondered the question whether Merlin would ever forgive him for this sneaky attack. Then he resolutely took his bag and went to the stables. Now that one side was safely tucked away, it was time to think of the other side of the coin.


	5. Long ago but not forgotten

**Ghosts from an ignominious past **

**5. Long ago but not forgotten**

It was midday when Gaius reached the outskirts of the town that surrounded Tintagel Castle. He reined in his horse on the last ridge and looked at the stronghold. What he saw hadn't changed much in the 30 years of his absence. Still the sea breakers thundered against the cliff many metres below the castle's western wall that completed the circle of fortifications directly at the cliff's edge.

Made of stone of the darkest grey and hovering on the harsh cliff above coast and town, the stronghold looked as if it had not been built but born. Born like a living creature; born out of the sea and of the rocks by some divine or magic will – or at the word of some devils, as Gaius preferred to think.

The healer shuddered at the sight of the castle Uther Pendragon had been born and grown up in. The second son to Athalf Pendragon, Eighth Duke of Cornwall and the first born of his new Duchess Condwiramur he had been adored by his parents. He had also been hated beyond reason by his elder brother Yvain, who had blamed the second Duchess for the untimely death of his mother.

Nobody had ever known whether it was true that the first Duchess had been murdered after she had been displaced by the beautiful young commoner, first from the ducal bed, then from throne and castle. Virtually a prisoner in a shabby, run-down manor house Yvain's mother had been found dead one morning by her son. Poison or heart attack – the young Prince had blamed his stepmother either way. As Condwiramur had died only a year after Uther's birth all the love and hatred of the other two Pendragons had focused on her little boy who had been named the Duke's sole heir and successor to the Dukedom on his second birthday.

The past became alive in Gaius' mind and blended into the presence while the old man wondered whether the stronghold that had been Uther's cradle was yet to become Arthur Pendragon's grave.

Vividly the physician remembered the night all these years ago when another young Pendragon Prince's life had been at stake here. The night Gaius had fled the place in Uther's wake. The night that had threatened the young Prince with captivity at the mercy of Yvain and his bunch of renegade sorcerers who had entered the stronghold the day Duke Athalf had died. Madness this ride had been. Through clattering swords and arrows coming from nowhere an inexperienced and terrified healer adept had pulled all his meagre magical powers together to break or avoid the magic seals in the walls and gates.

The intricate system of fortifications still enclosed the actual main castle and its outbuildings that harboured a whole world of humans, animals and facilities. As he had felt it during all those years he had lived here Gaius could almost hear the magic that filled and covered the mighty walls and towers humming in the air. It was like a living aura, a dormant power, ready to come to life when someone should be mad enough to attack the dragons' den. Or if someone should try to leave it against its master's will.

If all the staggered bridges, gateways and doors were closed, the labyrinthine fortifications manned and all stores filled with provisions, the castle could survive virtually everything. Not even fire or undermining would suffice to bring the heart of the stronghold down. Even after the whole town and the dukedom itself had fallen, the castle could still hold out.

As on occasions, it had done. Gaius still remembered the stories his mother and the other commoners' women had whispered to their children at night, how, in former times, the Pendragon Lords had stood on the walls, proud and undefeated laughing into their enemies' faces while the town had been burning; the air filled with the stink of dead townspeople and the cries of tortured humans filling.

Other than the townspeople Gaius had never been able to see the strength in that. Even as a child he had seen only weakness and cowardice in a ruler who abandoned his people, a weakness unworthy of the high and mighty claims of nobility and knighthood. Every single time Uther Pendragon had ordered to seal off Camelot's citadel from the town and every single time Arthur had protested against that, Gaius' heart had gone out to the young Prince and the promise he embodied; the promise of a future in which a King under the red and golden dragon banner would discard the vices of his unknown ancestors.

Now the old healer felt his muscles tense at the sight of the original Pendragon banners which crowned the many towers of Tintagel. The pitch black banner with the fighting Dragon in a circle of magic energy, all in glittering gold, symbolized the Pendragon family's ancient claim to power, both secular and magical.

Over centuries Pendragon children had been born here. Those with magic, like Yvain, destined to go to the Blessed Isle while those who had been born without magic abilities, like Uther, would take over secular leadership from their predecessors when the time came. The warriors and the magicians – there had been a time when this alliance had brought a family to greatness.

Briefly Gaius wondered what Arthur might have thought when he had seen the banner for the first time in his life. Whether he had recognized it as a Pendragon crest at all.

But then, he might have been blindfolded.

The simple, prosaic thought and the predicament for which it stood brought Gaius back to earth. Reliving Tintagel's past wasn't an issue here. His task was to prevent it from destroying another realm's future. After that the dragons' nest could go to hell for all he cared.

At the gate guards' call he immediately demanded an audience with the Duke, based on the mentioning of his name and allegiance with Camelot only. The guards scrutinized him, his plain clothes and worn look doing nothing to convince them that their master would be willing to receive this old scarecrow. However, laughter died in their throats as soon as the Duke's Major Domus came running, puffing in the splendid robes and heavy adornments of his office. As he was, after all, at least eight years Gaius' senior nobody had seen the man running in a lifetime. Well, not until now that was.

"Gaius, is this really you?" the old excellency panted. "How much I'd hoped that I would be you whom King Uther would send to us!"

He stopped to wipe the sweat from his face before he snapped at the guards. "Lively now, what do you stand there gawping, take his horse. His Grace is awaiting him impatiently!"

The young soldiers, now somewhat apprehensive and unsure of what to think of the insignificant old man on the admittedly splendid mount, hurried to attention. They actually bowed to the old physician, just to be on the safe side. Duke Yvain wasn't famous for his indulgence.

The healer slipped awkwardly from the horse and faced the still sweating courtier. "Lord Bedwyn. I am pleased to see you. It has been a long time. If only the reason for my coming here was somewhat more pleasant than it is!"

Bedwyn glanced warily at the soldiers and ushered Gaius inside the castle in some haste. Once safely out of earshot he looked around furtively before he bent to the healer's ear. "Gaius, I am at my wits' end. There is no way to talk reason into His Grace. He has had the most absurd plans ever since Prince Endred is to come back from Gaul!"

Gaius stopped in midstride. "_Endred is alive_?" he said hoarsely. The possible implications of this particular piece of information whirled through his mind. "But that's not possible!"

Bedwyn shrugged. "I know. We all believed the Duke when he told King Uther that Lord Gorlois had killed the boy. But in truth Endred was only wounded. The Duke had him trained and educated in Gaul by an old liegeman of his. Nobody knew, I myself heard the first of it all only yesterday."

"How old would Endred be now?" Gaius mused "With Arthur being 22 Endred must be..."

"29" Bedwyn said. "He's exactly 7 years his half-brother's senior, almost to the day!"

Anxious and scared, he ushered Gaius to walk on.

"So the truce between Duke Yvain and King Uther has been based on a lie from the very start" Gaius said softly when they approached the entrance to the Duke's state room. Bedwyn nodded, clearly in distress. Even while the stately doors swung open he continued to whisper his fears to the healer. "Can you imagine what this means? There is only one man who stands in Endred's way to Uther's throne and that's his younger brother!"

The words rang in Gaius' ears while he entered the magnificent suite of rooms, adding to the apprehension he already felt at the perspective of meeting the Duke of Cornwall again. When he had left the Cornish stronghold he had sworn a solemn oath never to return and he had kept that oath – until now.

"Our friend the Medicus" the once familiar but long since detested voice was unmistakable. "What a pleasure for my eyes. How much I've missed you."

The healer bowed with feigned deference to the man in the centre of the room. Tall and slender in his sixtieth year and very elegantly dressed, with the still dark hair and the steel-grey eyes the Duke was as unmistakable as ever. The amulet of a high ranking adept of the Blessed Isle that adorned his chest hadn't changed much either.

"I wish I could say the same Your Highness! Or is it still Your Eminence these days?"

"Now, now my old friend, is that a way to greet your former master? After all _you_ left _me, _your Duke as well as your spiritual superior, without permission. So the guilty conscience should be yours."

"I've been your brother's man since the day he was born" Gaius replied coldly. "There never was a time when you had my allegiance, spiritual or otherwise! And no blings or tassels from a forgotten hocus-pocus can change that!"

"Tread careful, _physician_ or I might just remember that as a peasant's son and as an acolyte of the Great Temple, you are still my subject. And I am not known for my leniency!"

"I am not here to rely on your leniency. On your brother's behalf I came to ask for your demands for his son's release. But before that, Your Highness, I am to see your nephew!"

"Which one of the two?" Yvain Pendragon no longer troubled himself with false courtesies or a polite tone as the conversation approached its true core. "You, of all people, may remember that my beloved brother has fathered two sons."

As Yvain quite obviously relied on Gaius's knowledge of Endred's reappearance, the healer abstained from any comment and the Duke continued. "Even if all the world has forgotten about Endred Pendragon, I intend to keep the promises I made to Endred's mother."

"How is the Lady Lordegrade?"

"You will not leave Tintagel before you have paid your respects to her anyhow. Neither you nor my brother Uther will be allowed to refuse the true Queen of Camelot and her son the respect that's due to them. Not if I can hinder it."

Gaius felt his bravado falter. So nothing had changed for Yvain Pendragon in all these years. Nothing at all.

The healer's voice was husky when he answered. "And I admit that you have obtained the means to hinder it. But may I remind you that these _means_ are a human being? He wasn't even born when Lord Gorlois..."

"I forbid you to mention this monster's name in my presence, do you hear me?" Yvain hissed it through clenched teeth. "Say this name again and I'll have Arthur's skin torn from his back in your presence before I start on you, emissary or no!"

"Neither Igraine nor her son ever caused you any harm." Gaius fought hard to keep his increasing despair out of his voice. "Neither you nor Uther's first wife or eldest son. Until now Arthur didn't even know they exist!"

"He still doesn't! It's not for me to tell him that he was born illegitimate and out of wedlock."

"Both is still debatable, to say the least!"

"Not if you're having Arthur's well-being at heart. If my brother wants his precious bastard spared he'd better think twice about what is still _debatable_."

Gaius shivered. The unveiled threat drove all warmth from his body. Once more anguish threatened his carefully controlled composure.

"Surely Your Highness will agree that it is not for me to negotiate things like that. My order is to deliver your demands to your brother. And to make sure that his... younger son is alive and well."

Yvain nodded curtly. "I agree that we have nothing more to discuss right now. My men will lead you to the prisoner. I can grant you some privacy with him, but you better make good use of the time, it won't be long. Whatever you want to tell him is up to you. We will talk again afterwards."

The Duke rang a bell he took from a table at his side and immediately a guard entered the room.

Relieved that his walk in a minefield was over for the moment, Gaius bowed and followed the silent soldier.

However his dread came back when the guard led him down to where Tintagel's vast vaults and cellars began. And a row of prison cells Gaius suddenly remembered all too well.

In front of a solid wooden door the soldier stopped. He unbolted it and invited the old man inside with a short gesture. The healer entered and the door was shut and bolted behind him.

"Gaius! Is that really you?" The old man turned to where the unbelieving voice had come from and while his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw Arthur rose from a cot he had been sitting on. "Please tell me that this isn't a dream!"

The healer swallowed the question that was on his lips. "How are you?" seemed hardly adequate after his first long look at Uther's son. For the physician's eyes the bruises as well as the awkward tension in the muscles told him all there was to tell about the conditions of Arthur's captivity. The sight of the badly chafed wrists in the iron shackles that were chained to the wall added to the loathing Gaius felt for the man who was responsible for this.

"I am here on your father's orders, Sire! I admit I am not the obvious choice for such a mission but..."

"But you have known the Duke in former times, before you came to Camelot! So it would most probably be you who'd come once Malantuis had delivered his message!" Arthur said. "At least they told me that much, albeit virtually nothing else!"

"That's true. Actually I was born in Tintagel town and I once served in this castle." While he said it Gaius made up his mind that he would tell Arthur nothing of the Prince's own connections with this place and its inhabitants. If his kinship to Yvain had done nothing to protect him so far, the knowledge would only make things worse for the proud but powerless captive.

"How is my father? And my frie...the others? What happened in Camelot?" Although the Prince did his best to keep his voice calm his eyes showed some of his longing to be released from his isolation and fruitless speculations. To be, if only for a short moment, part of his own world once more.

"Your father is well. As are the others. King Uther has been very relieved to hear that you are alive, after three months without any life sign from you. Until this horse dealer gave us the message that he all but ran into you by chance in Tintagel."

"It had nothing whatsoever to do with 'chance'. In my presence Malantuis got the order to inform my father of my whereabouts, together with a handsome sum of money for his troubles."

"Your servant was right then, the man's a scoundrel. Morgana's maid said so, too! He cheated your father out of additional 500 gold coins!"

Gaius could see the gratitude in Arthur's face for the short, discreet message about his friends' well being. The Prince's next movement proved the healer's suspicions on the necessity of discretion to be true.

The metal clanked softly while Arthur raised his hands and wiped his brow at his sleeve while he pointed his chin at a small opening in the upper part of the inner wall. So much for privacy then. Doubtlessly Yvain's men overheard their every word.

Resolutely Gaius closed the distance between them with two strides and pulled his Prince into a tight hug, hoping that it looked inconspicuous enough to the spies behind that wall. "Arthur, it is so good to see you alive!" he said loudly.

Following his lead Arthur threw his shackled hands over Gaius neck and hugged him back. "Now that the three months the succession act allows have passed, has my father named a new Crown Prince?" he whispered into Gaius' ear almost inaudibly.

The healer tensed and silently cursed his naiveté. Naturally Arthur would know the time limits in Camelot's basic laws by heart. If the Duke should really go for an attempt to force Uther into proclaiming Endred his new heir, he had timed Malantuis' message perfectly.

Gaius now relied on Arthur's intuition even further. Surely the fact that only he had come instead of an official delegation from Uther's court was a dead give-away that the King would not acknowledge his son's captivity in public.

"The barons are pestering him but your father is stalling under as many pretexts as he can find without telling anyone what happened to you" he whispered, praying that Arthur would understand what that meant before the hidden eavesdroppers would lose their patience.

The short hissing when Arthur sucked in breath as well as the brief sagging of the shoulders were prove that the message had been understood. There would be no official help from Camelot. He was on his own.

Arthur wasn't stupid enough to ask for a long explanation. Gaius felt the Prince pulling free from the embrace and let go of him.

"It is good to see you too, Gaius." Pendragon straightened his back awkwardly but managed to smile anyway. "Please give my father my regards. Tell him especially now I remember the exciting times I have had with him and his councillors three years ago!"

Gaius was bewildered and looked at Pendragon for an explanation but suddenly understanding dawned on his face. Three years ago the council had agreed on an amendment. If the King was captured this should be treated as if he had been killed. The succession act would come into force even if he was still alive. Arthur, only an observer in the council meetings before he actually came of age, had stated that this naturally should also be applicable if the tables were turned. Uther had thrown a formidable tantrum but the council members had sided with his son and finally it had been laid down exactly as Arthur had suggested. The Prince had hardly been able to hide his pride at his first political victory and in private Uther had taken much offence. Exciting times, indeed.

Gaius battled his increasing feeling of failure. Naturally Arthur, the embodiment of duty, would resign himself to being sacrificed for the greater good. To keep Camelot safe from some outrageous demands for his release, he would try every trick he knew in order to escape. If this wasn't possible he knew his father would be forced even against his will to name another heir. The way Arthur thought of himself, as an heir, not as a son, he would think that this would diminish his value as a hostage completely.

Under normal circumstances Camelot would subsequently negotiate his release behind the scenes. This would spare the King the embarrassment of admitting in public that he was held to ransom and Camelot the disgrace either to officially yield to blackmail or to give up their Prince. That the procedure carried the risk of death or prolonged captivity for the hostage - Arthur would accept this as the price of duty fulfilled and honour preserved. It was the way Uther had brought him up and he would follow it to the bitter end.

Now Gaius felt trapped. Without telling Arthur everything it was impossible to warn him that this attitude played into Yvain's hands. And where in the name of Gods should he begin?

"I will give your message to your father" the healer finally said, knowing that in this moment nothing else would be of help to the young man in front of him. "You're right. It's the only solution."

In Gaius' mind the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place. This regulation, thought as a safe-guard for Camelot, was the corner stone of Yvain's plan. Even if it became known that Arthur was still alive, Uther could no longer stall. Nobody knew that Endred was in league with Arthur's captor, and with one son lost and the other one miraculously returned from the dead, what would be more natural than to proclaim the King's first born son the new heir apparent? Other than Igraine's son thought, the proclamation of the new Crown Prince would not diminish his value as a hostage. Only with Arthur at his mercy Yvain could hope that Uther would play along with the disgraceful charade of a most emotional reunion with his long-lost firstborn!

Silently the healer cursed Uther's silence towards Arthur about virtually all the skeletons in the cellar of Pendragon family history. In a desperate attempt to make up for his inadequacy he let his healer's instincts kick back in.

"But I am not here as a simple errand boy. Your father expects me to be of use to you in any way possible while I am here. Now let me see what's wrong with your back."

"It's nothing really, I…."

"It isn't nothing, now let me see your back." The young man was too hampered by his restraints to prevent the healer from pulling up his shirt. At the sight of the torso even the experienced healer was stunned. Fresh, raw as well as older bruises criss-crossed the back and parts of the rib cage.

The bastard" Gaius whispered aghast "The goddamned bastard!"

He looked into the young man's face that was red with shame. "I tried to escape" Arthur whispered. "I failed! End of story!"

"How often?" When the Prince didn't answer, Gaius' voice became more urgent. "Arthur, those injuries do not stem from one whipping only. How often have you been beaten?"

The Prince pulled down his shirt as best he could, jaws clenched tightly. "I'll live!" he said. "At least it won't scar. They used a broad belt." Once more he cocked his head to where the spying ears were doubtlessly listening intently. It was obvious that he had no intention to say anything else about his situation as long as his captors heard every word.

Reluctantly Gaius yielded and let the subject rest. Then a sudden idea struck him.

"Arthur, there is one more thing I have to tell you. It's an explicit order from your father!"

"What is it?"

"Your father demands that you, should this be asked of you, give your parole, under the knights' code, not to make any attempts to escape or fight back but to resign to honourable captivity until Uther has found a solution for this."

Gaius desperately hoped that he had found the proper phrasing. The pompous language of the code of honour and all the other childish stuff the knights were so fond of had never been exactly his forte. If the language was wrong, Arthur would never fall for the outrageous lie.

Watching his Prince's face Gaius doubted that he would anyway. He knew that he had lost when Arthur smiled forgivingly. "I am astonished that my father should have forgotten that a knight cannot be _ordered_ to give his parole. But tell him that I will consider it as I see fit!"

"Arthur, I know Tintagel" Gaius made a last attempt. "You stand no chance of escape. Every wall, every gate, every little door is fortified and sealed not only with iron and guards but with magic too."

As the prisoner shook his head in silent rejection the healer felt his throat grow tight. "Do you really think your father wants to see you perish for a hopeless cause?" he whispered and for the split of a second Arthur was visibly shaken.

Anger, frustration, guilt and shame suddenly swept away Gaius' lifelong persuasion that promises and oaths were made to be kept under all circumstances. When they heard the sound of approaching steps outside he reached for Arthur, pulled him close and exposed his injured back once more before the surprised young man could resist.

From the depths of his memory Gaius found the words he had forsworn more than twenty years ago. His eyes flashed golden just as Arthur yelped and tried to jerk away from his grip. However, as the comforting warmth of the healing spell covered his mutilated body, he relaxed instantly. Without another sound or move he allowed Gaius to finish what he had started until the awful bruises had vanished completely.

When the door opened and Yvain's guard came back for the physician, Gaius had just let go of the young man. Tentatively he waited for a reaction in Arthur's face to what he had done. As the soldier shoved the healer out Gaius was startled by the almost invisible smile and the whispered "Thank You" that followed him.


	6. Looming purgatory

**6. Looming purgatory**

Merlin paced restlessly through his cell. He lasted only five minutes before he once again complained to the guards. The soldiers tried to ignore him as best they could but he was insistent. Ever since he had understood that they were not allowed to restrain him or punish him he had pestered them with questions and complaints, even insults.

Their wrath and empty threats had been his only entertainment. He knew he was tormenting them mercilessly but for once in his life his own torment, a hellish combination of boredom, worries and fruitless brooding, had overcome his natural kindness and empathy for others. He felt a wicked satisfaction when one of the soldiers yelled that it had been easier to have Prince Arthur in the dungeons than him.

Now he demanded that the food he had got only ten minutes ago should be taken away because the smell of it made him sick. When the soldiers didn't react he began to kick at the door until he saw their faces twitch in hardly repressed anger.

He scratched his fingernails over the bars in the door until the screeching sound tormented even him let alone the exasperated soldiers who were at the end of their tether.

"Merlin, stop that. What are you doing it for?" Startled by the familiar voice the young warlock craned his neck to glimpse at his unexpected visitor.

A moment later Sir Leon came into full view. "So it's true. You _are _driving the men crazy on purpose! What's the matter with you? If it hadn't been for the King's consideration for Gaius until he's back from fighting the plague on Lord Bedwyn's estate you would have got yourself into very hot water weeks ago!"

Suddenly the young warlock didn't feel so good. "It's only that I am bored. And they had no right to lock me up." He knew he sounded extremely childish but he couldn't help it. What really troubled him almost to tears was his powerlessness. Two years of successful battles against enemies of all sizes had given him a taste of power and significance, even though he hadn't earned much credit for it in public. After that, being locked in 24 hours a day for weeks on end hadn't exactly been helpful. It definitely hadn't helped to calm his fears. Where his connection to his royal friend had been, normally a continuous undercurrent in his mind ever since Arthur had been in that cave to take the Morteus Flower, was now a gaping emptiness that drove him mad with anxiety.

Leon looked at him. He saw the troubled face, the wide eyes and the anguish in them. Maybe he was the one of Arthur's knights who had the deepest understanding of the friendship that had connected the two young men behind the façade of servant and master. They all were grieving for their Prince but except the King and Guinivere nobody would grieve as deeply as Merlin would. Come to think of it, nobody, not even Uther, had lived as close to the King's son as Merlin had. Based on this knowledge Leon had his own ideas about why Uther, of all men, should have troubled himself with keeping the somewhat overemotional servant boy away from trouble until Gaius came back. Somehow the thought that Uther hadn't been _that_ negligent of his only son after all was comforting.

Leon unwrapped the little package he held in his hand and handed the book to Merlin through the bars. "Here. Take it. I hope it helps to take your mind off things a bit. And don't you worry, I'm still taking care of your horse. Now pull yourself together, will you? I'm sure Gaius will be back soon enough!"

Merlin suppressed his anger about being spoken to like a sulking child. He knew he had only himself to blame for that. To avoid Leon's accusing gaze he looked at the chivalric novel in his hand. "I can't keep that" he said spontaneously. "That's really valuable. The illuminations alone must be worth a fortune."

"Look" Leon said exasperated, "its one of Arthur's books. His mother must have ordered a whole library for her child before he was born. He never used them much and now they have been stuffed away for good when Uther had his rooms sealed up. You take it or it will go to Geoffrey to collect dust to all eternity. You choose."

Merlin stuffed the book under his jacket. His cheeks were hot and he sniffed. He felt horribly embarrassed. "Thanks!" he muttered.

As Leon turned to leave the warlock clutched the bars of the cell door. "Wait, please!"

"What is it now?" the knight asked somewhat impatiently but he went back to the young man nevertheless.

"Would you tell me what's happening?" Merlin whispered. "What do you mean Arthur's rooms have been sealed? Hasn't the King named a new Crown Prince yet?"

"No, not yet" Leon replied. "The King has been sick most of the time for the last few weeks. There has been no council meeting since Gaius left. By the way, he has sent word to the King that he is on his way back home. So you'll be out of here in no time. And the rooms have been sealed because Uther doesn't want anyone to use them. Now give the men some quiet 'till Gaius comes back, will you?"

The wizard nodded self-consciously. Leon waved a short Good Bye and went away.

Merlin slipped off to the corner farthest from the door and buried his nose in the book. When he found the scrivener's dedication to the 'new owner' he briefly wondered whether Arthur ever had held this book in his hands as his mother would have wished him to. He let his magic flow silently, for the umpteenth time trying to form a connection to his friend but failed again. He pulled his knees towards his chest and hugged them with is arms, effectively cradling the beautiful item with his body. But whatever he did in the two weeks that followed this day, the damned thing didn't speak to him of its owner at all.

In the end the guards, who had desired his passing away so urgently only a short time ago became worried because he was so quiet and withdrawn. It wouldn't look good in their service records if he came to any grief in their custody. The day Uther gave order to release the young man they seriously thought about organising a small celebration in the evening.

Merlin slipped away without a word and went directly to Gaius' quarters. The many sympathetic looks and the frequent smiles he met on his way he overlooked completely but alone in his room he felt as forlorn and useless as he had felt in his cell.

After an hour he couldn't stand it any more. Suddenly it was very important that he returned the book immediately, this instant, and his legs found their way to the King's office all by themselves, without a conscious thought. He didn't mind that a few months ago he'd have used every opportunity to avoid the King at all costs. He didn't mind that there were many people who longed to see him, to speak to him, especially the one friend who was lost and grieved herself.

The only thing that mattered now was that there was exactly one person who might have some news about what really was going on and he would see this person, now!, at once

As he reached the corridor that led to his destination he saw the ceremonial guards close the door after someone had entered the throne room. So the King was in there right now. Merlin decided spontaneously to use the servants' entrance. He had no desire to talk to any guards right now. Maybe he could just slip in and see whether Uther was in an approachable mood.

A couple of minutes later he opened the small back door a bit and listened for a moment. He was more than a little surprised when he recognized Gaius' strained voice.

"My Lord, I don't think there is any other chance but to comply with Duke Yvain's wishes" the old healer said. "Either you submit to his demands or you've seen the last of Arthur. Your brother has made this abundantly clear."

Merlin pricked his ears, instantly fascinated. Since when did Uther have a brother?

"What has Yvain done to him?" The King's voice now, equally tensed.

The healer sighed wearily. "It's not what he has done, it's what he could do in future that worries me" he said and even Merlin could hear that his friend was trying to evade Uther's question.

"Gaius, you've seen my son. How was he? I won't ask you again!"

Merlin had to strain his ears to hear the old man's soft answer. "I was made to understand that they used magic to bring him into Tintagel. A three weeks ride, without anyone seeing him – it would have been almost impossible otherwise. After that... You know your son, Sire, he's not easily subdued." Gaius hesitated before he continued. "I'm sorry to say that he was in bad shape when I found him. They had given him a hard time!"

"I see" Uther whispered. "I take it that my brother's bunch of sorcerers is still with him then?"

Well hid behind the door Merlin felt his heart flutter. Uther Pendragon's brother and his bunch of _what_?

"It would seem that the whole order escaped to Tintagel when you had the Blessed Isle destroyed. Maelfwyn, for one, I saw with my own eyes" Gaius said. "In fact it was him who brought Prince Arthur to Tintagel although the actual kidnapping had been left to a gang of hired mercenaries."

"Maelfwyn" Uther gnarled. "I had hoped that at least he would be burning in hell by now for the murder of Morgana's father. To think that this accursed traitor should have _my_ son at his mercy. It's intolerable!"

"Indeed, Your Grace. Especially for Prince Arthur!" Merlin winced at the sudden anger in Gaius' voice. "From what I've seen in Tintagel the castle's fortifications are stronger than ever before, both in armaments and magic" the healer continued, still in the same crisp tone. "There is no way to protect the hostage other than to give in to your brother's demands."

"_You_ freed _me_ from Tintagel!" the King stated thoughtfully. "And we both escaped unharmed. Or as good as."

"That was thirty years ago." Gaius almost shouted it. "Your brother had entered the castle only a few hours before our escape. The magic seals had been neglected for years by your father's court sorcerer exactly for this purpose; to allow Yvain access to Tintagel. I assure you, all the holes we used have been closed years ago!"

"So you really think I should go to my Crown Council together with this imposter who pretends to be my son and inform them that my long lost first born, of whom they haven't heard a word until now, has miraculously resurrected from the dead? That I am going to most heartily welcome him and his bedlam fury of a mother into Camelot? Oh yes and while I'm at it, I will admit, in public, that Igraine and I were never legally married? That Arthur has been born out of wedlock? That Duke Gorlois, my best friend, Morgana's father, the impeccable war hero, has lied about his own marriage for my sake? And when I'm done proclaiming all these fascinating pieces of information, I will add the tiniest bit of uninteresting news, namely that the new Queen mother as well as the new Crown Prince of Camelot are _sorcerers_? Tell me, Gaius, ARE. YOU. INSANE?"

Merlin tried his best to melt into the wall. Never before in his life had he been that afraid. Neither Nimueh, nor Sigan, not even the Great Dragon himself had terrified him more than the thought of what would happen to him should Uther ever find out that he had been listening to this special conversation.

Gaius kept silent for a long moment before he spoke again. "Your brother asked me a question, Sire" he said coldly. "What do you think Uther would want to protect more, his façade or his son? What do _you_ think I should have answered?"

"Say what you want but there _must_ be another solution!"

Gaius lost the last remainder of his patience. "For the Gods' sake Uther, thrice Arthur has been flogged for attempted escape. When I saw him he could hardly move for pain, he was incarcerated and put in irons. You tell me how long a 22 years old boy can stand this, you are his father after all! Don't you get it? This is not about _you_ any more!"

"Tread carefully physician!" Uther's voice was low, dangerous. "You're forgetting yourself. Don't you dare to make me forget what you have been to me in the past!"

"I beg Your Majesty's pardon but you have forgotten that once too often already. Neither your short memory nor your ingratitude can scare me now!"

"What about me making an exception of you in the great purge?" the King hissed.

"What about you leaving me to Aredian's tender mercy?" Gaius replied sternly.

His back and head pressed firmly against the wall Merlin could hear Pendragon pacing restlessly while Gaius obviously stood still. For endless minutes both were silent and the young warlock didn't dare to breathe for fear he might be heard. He flinched at the sound of Uther's voice.

"I never would have thought that I would one day regret having no sorcerer among my men but you" the King said.

"Oh no, Uther Pendragon, don't leave it at my door step! I used all my meagre powers to heal your son's bruises, it's not in me to prevent men like your brother or Maelfwyn from giving Arthur some new ones whenever they feel like it. Or worse!"

"You healed Arthur with _magic_? Did he see it?"

"No, Uther, naturally your son was conveniently absent while I was healing the only back he has in his body with a spell! Please, be reasonable! Of course he saw it!"

"And he let you do it? Just like that?"

"Sire, your son has known that I have magic all his life. He simply thought I wouldn't use it any more! But it goes without saying, if he had known you'd disapprove he'd have preferred to go on with his flesh being torn from his bones."

Uther simply ignored the cutting remark. "There really is no one left from the old days except you and me, is there?" The King sounded definitely despondent now. "Even Balinor is dead!"

Merlin lowered his head and bit his lip. What had been a slowly, shyly growing beginning of an affection for this enigmatic man began to tumble on its feeble footings and then it collapsed in the young warlock's soul.

Gaius cleared his throat. "Yes, thanks to your most impressing efficiency. You killed each and every sorcerer who may have come to your son's aid and you motivated all the others to lash into him in order to hit _your_ only vulnerable spot. That is, if you still _do_ have a soft spot for your only child."

"So you don't believe it either? That Endred is still alive? That it is really him Yvain is going to send to me?"

"Not for a second! Endred is dead, he died 23 years ago by Gorlois' hand and his mother's fault and there's an end to it!"

"We were never sure we found his body. The carcass we fished out of the water days later wasn't recognizable. The clothes, the adornments, it was all gone. Could have been anyone! Who knows whom we buried in the crypt that night!"

"Endred would have been the only one in Tintagel with a valid claim to your consideration and affection but he's _dead!_ Dead and buried."

"How should I know whether this is true? You told me Morgause had been born dead and I believed it until she marched into Camelot!"

"I gave my _word_ to keep my silence, to both her parents. For Igraine's sake and for yours, as I may add! I never promised anyone but you to be silent about Endred!" Gaius spoke with even greater urgency now. "Uther, you _must_ believe that your first born son is dead. Arthur is alive and he needs you. Desperately! Yvain's messenger is two days behind me, at most! What are you going to tell him?"

"Leave Yvain's letter with me! I'll give you my decision as soon as possible! You can go now!"

"Uther..."

"I said, you are dismissed! Besides, I think there's a young man in your quarters to whom _you_ owe some explanations for a change! About throwing _him_ into a dungeon cell."

"Your Majesty!" Gaius bowed curtly and turned for the front door but by then Merlin had already left his place behind the small door for good.


	7. Once, in days of old

**7. Once, in days of old**

The young warlock beat his mentor to the infirmary by several minutes.

When Gaius entered his quarters with a somewhat sheepish look on his face, he found his ward wide eyed and rather pale sitting cross-legged on the healer's bed.

"Merlin. There you are!"

"Yes! Here I am! That's the only thing I know for sure! Everything else is rather obscure right now!"

"Now, if this is about me having you arrested it was in your own best interest..."

"Oh, naturally. We couldn't allow stupid Merlin to run into Tintagel to help his friend. Stupid Merlin could have unearthed some very embarrassing Pendragon family ties. First wives, illegal wives, dead sons, magical brothers – tell me, did I miss something or was that really all?"

If nothing else Merlin had the satisfaction to see Gaius' face fall until the old man looked positively dumb. "Close your mouth Merlin or do you want to catch some flies?" Arthur's voice rang in his memory as clear as if he were in the same room with them. As if he weren't many miles away at the mercy of a man who obviously terrified King and Court Physician of Camelot more than the four Kingdoms and all the Druids of Albion together.

"You tell me, Gaius. Was that really all?"

"You sneaked in on us! I can't believe it. Have you any idea what might have happened to you..."

"I can imagine a thing or two. But that wasn't my question, was it!"

The healer put down his bag very carefully while he tried to recollect his thoughts. What had been said? How much had been given away of what should have been buried in the past, at least 100 fathoms deep? Then, all of a sudden, he realized that it didn't matter anymore.

Gaius sat down heavily on a chair. "Damn, we all thought that Uther had made his peace with his brother for good. If only we hadn't been _that_ sure the devil would never go for Arthur again!" He looked up directly into the young warlock's uncomprehending face. "But I see, I should start at the beginning, otherwise you won't make head or tails of anything I say."

The physician turned to the cupboard in the corner. "I don't know about you, but I have spent six weeks on the road all in all and some days in a castle I never wanted to see again in the first place. I'm famished and my throat is virtually parched. Would you mind preparing some dinner? Before I tell you the whole background story of this mess?"

Grumbling Merlin rose to comply with the old man's wish when a thought struck him. "We both haven't been at home for more than six weeks. Surely our food has walked out on us on its own feet long ago?"

"Oh, but a certain young Lady doesn't neglect her friends as much as some young warlocks I could mention! Surely the message that I am back and that you were to be released has reached her hours ago."

With a very hot face Merlin went to the cupboard where they usually stored their food and beverages and there it was. Bread, cheese, fruits, dried meat, even a bottle of wine. Trust Gwen to have some connections to the kitchen personnel.

"She's one in a thousand, isn't she?" Merlin muttered while he laid the table. Gaius smiled to himself at the sight of his ward. The former superior attitude had vanished completely. However, once they both were seated the wizard's eyes once again met the healer's gaze and it was clear that Merlin intended to be as persistent as he possibly could.

For a few minutes Gaius could occupy himself with his food, with opening the bottle and pouring the wine but it was no good. The unwavering, unblinking stare was too discomforting. Finally the physician sighed in defeat.

"Very well then, as I know you will give me no peace otherwise!" He drank some wine and cleared his throat. For the next few hours Merlin felt as if he had fallen into an old well in which the past had come to life, reawakened by the healer's memory and voice.

"Athalf Pendragon was the Duke of Cornwall, many years ago. By then the Pendragon family had ruled the Dukedom for many generations. No King in Albion was strong, wealthy or powerful enough to keep the Cornish Dukes in check. The man who ruled in Tintagel was independent indeed – _'The_' Pendragon didn't heed anyone's wishes.

It was a singular combination of military and magical powers that had made them that invincible. Unlike other aristocratic families the Pendragons didn't marry for gold or lands or titles and claims alone – they also married for magic abilities. After many decades of careful breeding, the Cornish Noble House delivered not only the Dukes of Cornwall but also powerful magicians and seers who filled the highest ranks on the Blessed Isle. Not all of the highest ranks, mind you, but enough to be, well, let's just say 'well connected' in the powerful magic community of those days.

No one even thought of seriously attacking a family who could not only call on a substantial army for their defence but also on the power of the Blessed Isle itself. There was only one law not even The Pendragon could easily defy: No secular ruler was allowed to have magic. No magician was allowed to wear a Crown. For breaching this law the High Priests of the Blessed Isle would hunt you down and burn you alive.

Naturally religion or spirituality didn't come into it although the Isle always proclaimed otherwise. Back then, no King, no Duke or Count or whatever would have made war without magical support. As long as no knights could have magic and no magicians could become knights, the Isle alone controlled the magic military potential. At least, until the Pendragons began to breed into them, so to say!

As a result they could have anything they wanted, money, lands or even human beings – it didn't matter. Which family would not give almost anything for marrying their children to someone who would bring such connections to his in-laws? Their power was unrivalled and their position seemed impregnable until they themselves destroyed it all.

Yvain and Uther. Yvain the powerful magician and Uther the warrior - they should have been two sides of one coin, two halves of a whole but they weren't. Don't look like a moonstruck calf, Merlin. 'Trust a Pendragon to find the person who is destined to be his other half!' The saying is almost as old as the Pendragon dynasty itself. You and Arthur, you aren't the first who only together form a perfect circle. The power of magic and the power of the sword – back then they belonged together.

Until, shortly after his coronation, Duke Athalf married the woman his family had chosen for him. The Lady Dira had magic but unfortunately she wasn't a seer, otherwise she had rather cut her throat before she married Athalf!

I saw her bridal procession when I was five years old. Even I could see how ugly the poor creature was. Her figure plump, her face distorted by some sickness of the nerves and muscles, her hands were like claws. And yet she smiled all the way from the town gates to the castle's portal. She waved and smiled, through the murmuring, the appalled gasps and the faces that turned away from her, including that of her bridegroom. My mother kept saying that she had seen many a brave man in her life but a braver person than this woman she'd yet to behold.

It didn't take long before rumours sipped into the town and markets, that the marriage was a catastrophe. Dira was intelligent, kind and warm-hearted – in short she was the perfect victim. Athalf was cruel towards most people and he was more so towards his unfortunate wife. There was more than one servant who heard the Duchess scream during the nights. When she gave birth to a healthy son only 12 months after her wedding, the whole realm was mad with joy! The boy was named Yvain and he and his mother got a household of their own. For some time this was the end of the marital horror story, until it became obvious that the Duke was still without an heir. As Yvain had been born with magic he would be raised by the Priests of the Blessed Isle from his 10th year on.

The Duke and his Duchess resumed their marital life, with all the gruesome consequences, but there was no second pregnancy. Some years later, Duke Athalf graced a feast in the house of Cornwall's richest merchant family with his presence. There he met Condwiramur for the first time.

She was my mother's mistress. I come from a family of craftsmen and we have always been indebted to the merchant house, as our patrons. As the widowed merchant's only daughter, Condwiramur was the young Lady of the house. Athalf fell for her, head over heels. Five years later the Duke discarded his first wife and married Condwiramur. Seven months after the wedding the new Duchess gave birth to a son. This time Athalf had got his heir. Uther had been born without any magic abilities.

Of course this hadn't been without consequences. Dira had been sentenced to life long captivity under the pretext of adultery. Adultery, of all things, the poor creature. A nobleman who had been foolish enough to displease the Duke was arrested, tortured and finally executed as Dira's lover. Everyone knew it to be a lie, but nobody as much as lifted a finger. The wretched man left an orphan, a three year old son. His name was Gorlois.

Please, Merlin, shut your mouth, the cheese is falling out! And yes. Gorlois was to become Morgana's father.

But back then he was only Athalf's ward, destined to be something between a whipping boy and a playfellow for little Uther. Gorlois was distantly related to the Pendragons – very distantly, but even so. And he had a gift, at least of a kind. To read people's minds is a rare ability, even in the most powerful warlocks, although the Isle didn't accept it as magic. Maybe the high and mighty priests of the old religion didn't want any people who could see the very worldly thoughts in their heads. So the Pendragons could keep the boy.

Anyway Condwiramur was in seventh heaven and if Duke Athalf ever came somewhat near the place it was then and there. Some months later Yvain turned 10 and it was time for him to depart for the Blessed Isle. He got permission to visit his mother to say Good Bye and found her dead. Her body was still warm.

It came as a terrible shock, I guess. Yvain had always been on his mother's side. A son with more love for his mother was hardly imaginable. Later it became obvious that he blamed his father as well as Condwiramur and even little Uther for her death but at the time he said nothing, not a word. Naturally everyone cried murder, if only behind closed doors and shuttered windows. Yvain still believes that Condwiramur had Dira poisoned. It's part of the hatred he feels for Uther. But it wasn't murder. It had been suicide!

You see, I had begun working as a healer's apprentice some weeks before that, to prepare myself for my own journey to the Isle, to start my own education as a healer! That night I accompanied my teacher to see Dira who had been ailing for some time. We left her, presumably asleep, in the early morning. A few hours later I sorted through the supply bag and I found that one of the potions was missing. I ran faster than ever before in my life but I came too late. I took the empty phial from her hand and ran like hell when I heard Yvain's steps in the corridor. If the phial had been found, my teacher and I would have lost our heads. As it was, the Duke and his Court conveniently fell for heart-failure as cause of death. Until now I haven't told anyone what really happened. Not even Uther!

Back then I wondered why she hadn't used her magic to save herself. But now I think: Save herself from what? And how?" Gaius shrugged. "I'm sure if her original, disfiguring illness had been curable by magic, she would have done so, but it wasn't. All her life she knew that she would have to marry Athalf. Humans always hope. It's in our nature. She must have hoped that the marriage would work out against all odds. When it didn't, Dira had no hope left. Yvain was the only person who'd ever loved her. Why shouldn't she take her life the night before they would take her son from her?

There was a funeral of course and a week after that Yvain departed with a handful of servants for the Blessed Isle. I was in is train, fulfilling my contract with the temple of healers. The next 15 years we both spent on the Isle. Yvain progressed very quickly through the ranks; his magic _is_ powerful after all. The fact that he is a Pendragon helped, too. He became head of his own order of young adepts after only ten years of training, an unrivalled achievement.

He also made two very close friends. A young noble from the north named Maelfwyn was the one. His sister Lordegrade was the other. However, there was trouble looming when people realized that Yvain and Lordegrade had become much more than friends.

I can say in all honesty that Lordegrade had no match in all Albion. Not Igraine, not Condwiramur, no one rivalled her beauty. Imagine a combination of lush, auburn hair that fell to her hips, a skin like cream and large, shiny eyes, as green as the sea is in the evening light. Her face, her figure were ….divine! There is no other word for it!

Anyway, Yvain must have known that there was no future for two sorcerers of their power. Besides their parents, the Blessed Isle itself banned such a marriage. But Athalf's son was virtually besotted with her. And she enjoyed it. His protection, the envy of the others, her advancement, the gifts he showered her with – she took what she could get until the day she had a letter from her father. He had finalised her marriage contract. Yvain's beloved was to depart immediately. To Tintagel. At 21 she was to become the wife and future Duchess of 16 years old Uther Pendragon!

Yvain must have been crushed by the news. He must have suffered like a wounded animal but two days later he saw her off as if she were just a member of his order he sent out into the world. I still remember the admiration I felt for him in that moment. It was the only positive feeling towards him I ever have had and it didn't last very long!

Be grateful that you don't know him, Merlin. Nothing was ever good enough for Duke Athalf's son. He never even entered the healers' temple because the medical order took in peasants and commoners, like me. If he was obliged to perform a ritual there he sent somebody else, claiming that he himself was 'indisposed', every single time. His order accepted commoners as lowly servants only, no matter what their magic abilities were. They exploited them mercilessly; then they ridiculed them. It was their favourite past time to humiliate a peasant until he was at breaking point." Unwittingly Gaius shook himself as if he had to get rid of something disgusting.

"It's true, Yvain forced some things through on my behalf, but only because I had come to the Isle with a Pendragon crest on my contract" the physician continued. "Noblesse oblige! Under no circumstances Yvain would have disgraced his family's name by admitting that he hated his stepmother and his younger brother with all the vicious ferocity his soul could muster. But it was I and the other healers who had to patch his order's servants together after they had been punished."

"He's some kind of a sadist then?" Merlin felt his stomach cramp at the thought that they were speaking of the man who was holding Arthur's life in his hands.

"No, I wouldn't say that" Gaius replied thoughtfully. "But if you had spoken to him as you did to Arthur on your first encounter you wouldn't have lived to see another day. What Yvain thinks and does is way, WAY beyond the sort of aristocratic pride you know from Uther or his son. I've always thought the man is suffering from hybris and I still think so now!"

Gaius rubbed his eyes angrily. "Any road, Lordegrade departed. Maelfwyn was with her; he was to become Duke Athalf's new Court Sorcerer. I, for my part, had learned all I could and the Great Temple and I had thoroughly tired of each other. I yearned for a life outside of temple walls, without lofty priests, sanctimonious speeches and empty rituals nobody believed in except the poor peasants who were cheated out of their last coins in the process. Imagine my delight when I received a letter from young Prince Uther that called me back to Tintagel. He had been very fond of my late mother and apparently this affection extended to me. Now, as he was going to marry he felt that his future household should have its own physician.

Naturally everyone assumed that he would be smitten with his lovely bride, but he wasn't. He disliked her immediately. However, for the first few years everything seemed to work out fine. It's true, Lordegrade miscarried once but then she gave birth to a healthy son. Endred was no heir to the Dukedom as he was born with magic but who cared? There would be other children. I think I was the only one who knew what a disaster Uther's marriage was. Lordegrade's marvellous beauty, the superior power her magic gave her, her casual arrogance – everything which had endeared her to Yvain was a red rag to Uther. He not only disliked her, he was jealous of her self-standing power and popularity and Uther Pendragon's jealousy is a dangerous thing. Always was and always will be. When he found her correspondence with Yvain he had his wife at sword point. Those letters were hard evidence of adultery, punishable by death !

Although Yvain had never even seen her since she had left the Isle - in a breeding programme as the Pendragons had it running, a ducal bride's virginity is of the utmost importance. To be eligible for Uther's hand Lordegrade had lied about hers. It was the same as if she had actually committed adultery! There were no buts and ifs. Of course things were hushed up. There was a private ceremony, a signing of documents with Duke Athalf and me, of all people, as the only witnesses. Lordegrade agreed to be divorced on the condition that she would raise Endred with Yvain.

Other than one would have expected, Uther agreed instantly. But then, imagine his situation, Merlin. He was barely 19. Surely he could marry again, could have other sons. And, unbelievable as it may seem, he didn't know yet that his own brother was the most deadly enemy he had. He was perfectly willing to share his rule. Remember what I told you before? About the magical half which was to make a non-magic Pendragon whole? What better ally Uther should have hoped for than his own brother? He really thought, if Lordegrade went back to Yvain, it would be in everybody's best interest.

So Lordegrade went back to the Blessed Isle with her child. I have no idea how the Pendragons managed it but against virtually every single rule of the Blessed Isle Yvain and his former sister-in-law lived together as if they were husband and wife and Endred were their son. Uther settled down for a time without a wife and he enjoyed it thoroughly. At least that's what he said in one of his letters to Camelot!

Ah ha, I see you wonder what should have tied him to Camelot at that time. Well, Gorlois and Uther had become very close friends over time. They had been virtually inseparable until, under Athalf's orders, Gorlois had gone to Camelot to marry the daughter of the Dubois family. Her name was Igraine!"

A minute later Gaius wiped the table and tut-tutted angrily. "Really, Merlin, you shouldn't make it a habit. To splutter your beverages all over the table. It's disgusting!"

"Sorry" the young man rasped out between to sniffs "it...hatschiiii...it won't happen again, I promise. Just...hatschiiiii, do spare me this kind of surprises as long as my mouth is full!"

"I'll try my very best" Gaius smiled as he sat down again to resume his narration.

"All went well for a while until the peculiar accidents began to occur! Small things at first, nothing out of the ordinary. A lose carpet, a weak saddle girth. A blade that fell in an awkward angle. I smelled a rat only as I noticed that they only happened to Uther. I spoke to Maelfwyn about it, asked the Court Sorcerer for an investigation whether magic was involved, but he only laughed at my notions.

Uther also laughed, at least until he found a snake in his bed one morning. He killed it in the very last second and, knowing that I am interested in poisons and antidotes of all kind, he brought the animal to me. Well, he bragged a bit about his skill with the sword and made fun of it until I told him that this was no natural beast. Nowhere in all Albion this kind of snakes would live; of that I was certain. This time Uther went to Athalf with the news and the Duke was furious. He jumped all over Maelfwyn. Our beloved Court Sorcerer searched the castle for any signs of an attacker but found nothing. Any road, the accidents stopped and everything went back to normal. Some weeks later we got word that some unexpected and rather awesome fatalities had made Igraine the heir apparent to the Crown of Camelot.

It took Athalf only 24 hours to make up his mind. A messenger was despatched to Camelot, in his pocket he carried the Duke's orders for his ward. Gorlois was to strive for a divorce from Igraine as soon as possible. With Uther being divorced and Igraine being entitled to inherit a royal Crown, Athalf had cause to regret Igraine's marriage with poor insignificant Gorlois. Now she was very eligible for Athalf's son. And Camelot was not averse. An alliance with the Ducal House of Cornwall itself was most attractive."

"I don't believe it" the warlock exclaimed. "I just don't believe it. Was there no one who saw this whole business of swapping partners for what it was? A degradation? A thoroughly disgusting affair?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin, even the old Romans used to get married or divorced at a moment's notice if it suited their purposes. For a higher office or for better connections thirteen years old children were married off or send back home to be married to somebody else a few months later. Nothing has changed since then and it probably never will change as long as a marriage is much more a business contract between two aristocratic families than a relationship between two people. Or why do you think that Arthur desperately tried to hide his feelings for Gwen from his father?

Now where was I? Oh, yes. Alas, the Princess was furious. She categorically refused, although she didn't love Gorlois. It had been a marriage of convenience for both families and now the match was in no way convenient any more, not even for Igraine and her husband.

You see, even after all those years I'm still convinced that the only person Gorlois ever really loved in his life, except his little girl, was Uther Pendragon. Not as a man would love a woman but as a part of himself. The two of them were thick as thieves. Uther absolutely adored his father but he couldn't come close to him. After Condwiramur's death, no one could. Everyone bowed and scraped around her child but no one really cared much how he felt. Except Gorlois. Being lonely and neglected himself he had a feeling for Uther's situation. They clung to each other. There wasn't much room for anybody else in both their hearts.

As for Igraine, she had been very young and her parents very insistent that she should marry Duke Athalf's ward. This time the Princess wanted to have her way for a change. She had been pressed into this marriage, now she would not be pressed out of it.

Until something happened to her. To be exact, Uther happened to her. Like a thunder storm. He just fell from the sky. Don't laugh, it's true. These accidents I spoke of earlier – they hadn't been accidents at all but we didn't know that at the time. However, Athalf had been ailing for some time. I hadn't been able to identify the cause when, all of a sudden, he took a turn for the worse. Two months after we had had first word from Camelot the Duke died during the night and the way he died I would not wish on my most mortal enemy.

Uther was badly shaken. He was in no condition to organize anything so Lord Bedwyn – he still is the Major Domus of Tintagel by the way – and I tried to think of what had to be done.

It didn't take much of a post mortem to find out that Athalf had been poisoned, slowly, painfully, over months. With a curse of especially vicious magic."

Merlin's head jerked upwards and he paled visibly. "Uther's father has been killed by magic?"

"Yes, Merlin. But not only him. This very night Uther Pendragon was to lose everything and almost everyone he had ever loved and cherished. You see, in this night, while Uther was mourning his father, we were all driven from our cloud cuckoo's land when Tintagel was attacked with brutal force."


	8. Past's haunting shadows

**8. Past's haunting shadows**

"As I said, in the night of Athalf's death Tintagel was attacked." Gaius cleared his throat once more before he continued. "The guards at the gates died instantly. They never stood a chance against the magic that assaulted them from the dark. At that time we relied heavily on the magic seals that are impressed in the very stones of the fortifications. It was the Court Sorcerer's most important task to ensure that they were properly maintained.

Believe me, my boy, you wouldn't give me this disbelieving grin if you'd ever felt their onslaught on your body and mind! Now don't shake your childish head, yes, Merlin, mind. The seals cause horrible hallucinations as well as excruciating pain. They can render their victims helpless without causing any physical damage. As a young boy I saw some wretched thief being caught in their crossfire. They let him scream for an hour before the Court Sorcerer released him. The man begged the guards to kill him."

Merlin stared into his goblet. "You told Uther that Arthur tried to run several times" he said very softly. "Did he run into these...these abominations of magic?"

"No" Gaius said affirmatively. "You may know next to nothing about magical warfare. But the people of Yvain's order, they all excel in the kind of sorcery you can use in war, against an enemy soldier or a prisoner, and Yvain has a whole bunch of them in Tintagel. Shortly before I left the stronghold, Bedwyn confirmed that they had recaptured Arthur before he had had a chance to reach the outer fortification rings."

"So Yvain had him flogged instead" Merlin said accusingly, as if it somehow was Gaius' fault.

"Yes" the physician said soberly. "But believe me, even being whipped is much preferable to the kind of magic which guards Tintagel's walls. Back then the system had been working perfectly for many decades but this time we were all caught flat-footed. I was with Uther in his rooms while three attackers burst in and came for him instantly. He had no chance to draw his sword; it was ripped from his hands by magic. It took them two minutes to overwhelm us both. They dragged us to the state room, and there he was. Yvain! Life sized and pumped full with his own greatness, with Maelfwyn at his side. The damned traitor had caused the so called accidents and he had poisoned Duke Athalf, all under Yvain's orders.

Yvain bragged about the murder while Uther was held on his knees before him, completely immobilised by a restraining spell. Yvain's best friend was - is! - very good at these things.

Back then Yvain was feverish with excitement and triumph. He never tired of throwing insults at his brother. Sometime during his ravings he admitted that it had been him who'd blackmailed one of Condwiramur's women to poison her when Uther was only 12 months old and Yvain himself a child of 11 years!

Now Yvain and Maelfwyn left no doubt that Uther was going to die, too. He was to be burned alive the next morning, at dawn. His remains they wanted to take back to Lordegrade as some sort of recompense.

As for me, Yvain snarled that I was to return to the Isle to be punished for my disrespect towards a Priest of high rank; then he forgot that I was even there. You know, the bastard really thought that he could have it all; the woman, the child, his revenge, Tintagel and Cornwall, all at the same time, with one single strike. He actually thought he could go around the Isle's laws, as he had done so often before. But as it was, Yvain had grossly miscalculated his attack on Tintagel.

One of the young knights, actually he wasn't even knighted back then, his knighthood was still two or three years away, had made use of Yvain's foolishness. Our great Master Sorcerers had overrun the guards on duty in the moment of the attack but they hadn't thought of securing the barracks. Not knowing what was going on, Margath had assembled some of Tintagel's guards and tried to break through to Uther. And yes, Merlin, you are right; this Margath was the same who has been killed during Arthur's abduction.

When he and his men stormed into the main castle, Yvain's acolytes were like a bunch of scared chickens. Knowing Yvain I'd say he never taught them to have a thought of their own in their brains. Margath and his men suffered some losses when they fought them down but then they forced their way into the state room. Meanwhile the normal alarms were ringing all over the stronghold and town and every last soldier and knight was running to his station or tried to close up to Margath and his men.

Yvain, Maelfwyn and three of his adepts fought back, leaving Uther in the hold of two acolytes. Luckily they were young and terrified enough to be completely surprised when I cast a paralysing spell at them. It worked only for a moment but before they could free themselves they were shot by Margath's archers who had seen them rough-handling Uther. And Merlin, please don't bulge your eyes like that, you might do yourself an injury. You know there has been a time when I used magic and for a healer, paralysing spells can come in very handy.

Anyway, just when another group of our soldiers stormed into the room Margath tossed Uther a sword. After the first shock had passed he was mad with rage. He and his men fought like living devils but the odds were in Yvain's favour nevertheless. He may not be much of a strategist but he is an absolute expert in magical warfare.

Uther was the first to realize that we stood no chance. He ordered a retreat, back to the stables. By the time we got there, only Margath, Uther and I were still on our feet. Uther was badly injured though; one of Yvain's magical blasts had hit him in the shoulder and caused severe burnings. I don't know what kept Yvain and his men but the three of us had time to mount some horses and we rode towards the outer gates like hell. Even today I do not know how I managed to shield us from the magical seals which covered us from both sides. It's true, Maelfwyn must have neglected them, even actively weakened them or Yvain had never been able to enter Tintagel with hostile intentions in his mind, but still – it was a miracle that we made it out alive. On my deathbed I will still remember Maelfwyn's mad screams of rage that followed us."

Gaius looked at his hands and frowned. They were trembling. Suddenly he felt that he was covered in sweat. Time hadn't done much to mollify the terror and the repugnance he had felt so many years ago. "You see, I redirected the seals' assault energy towards the walls, fighting them and Yvain's men at the same time the only way I knew. Heaven only knows how many people I've killed or maimed for life that night without even knowing it, all for the sake of the one!"

The healer's voice had become very soft towards the last words and while Merlin silently pondered the resemblance between his own situation and Gaius' feelings when it came to their respective pet Pendragons, he saw a shudder run down the old man's spine. Finally the physician recollected his thoughts with an obvious effort.

"We found shelter in a village, with some loyal peasants. Naturally no peasant had any reason to feel anything but grudges and apprehension for the Lords of Tintagel, but this village had belonged to Condwiramur's family for a long time and the people had not forgotten her.

Of course Uther wanted to take up the fight, to assemble his liege-men and their troops for an attack against his brother, he wanted to despatch messengers to the Isle, to seek their support against Yvain and most of all he wanted to lay his bare hands around his brother's neck and squeeze, real hard. But he was in no condition to do anything.

At first his injury didn't heal at all and for many a day I thought I'd lose him. When the wound stopped festering and his fever ceased, I ran out into the woods. Originally I wanted to perform a small ritual to thank the Great Mother for his life but I ended up dancing like a madman between the trees; shouting that now I could cure a rainy day. You may well laugh, I know it was folly. It was raining cats and dogs at the time.

Any road, when I came back to our quarters I found Margath waiting for me with some most unwelcome news. When Yvain had conquered Tintagel he had conquered Cornwall. Uther's barons had forsaken him and sided with his brother. Yvain had promised them the world and his promises had added to their motivation that stemmed from their age-old fear of the Lords of Tintagel. The terror and awe the Pendragons had purposefully spread in their subjects' hearts now turned against Athalf's younger son.

And Yvain had gone at great lengths to kindle this fear. Not a single man of Athalf's guards and knights had survived the night of the attack. A third of the old Duke's servants had been randomly executed. For weeks on end their bodies hung at Tintagel's walls for everyone to behold. And every single member of Uther's own household had been burned alive. As for Condwiramur's family who had been Uther's only living relatives as well as my people's shelter and overlords for generations – not one of them had escaped Yvain's revenge.

Against my advice Margath informed Uther of what had happened the same night. I had thought it would kill him but Margath had been a better judge of character. Uther was invigorated by his thirst for revenge. It was a lesson the young Pendragon Prince would never forget. In the space of a few days virtually everyone whom Uther, Margath and I had ever held dear had either been murdered or had betrayed him – except Gorlois.

We reached Camelot barely three weeks later.

Gorlois was overjoyed to see us alive. While Igraine was still not willing to agree to a forced divorce of a forced marriage, her relationship with her husband, which had never been passionate, was now lukewarm, at best. So Gorlois threw himself with all his heart and enthusiasm into Uther's quest for support in his fight against Yvain. But they both were in for a bad disappointment.

Other than they had expected people had no intention to rally to their cause; no army of noble knights assembled in shiny armours to correct the wrongs which had been done. People were all pretty busy tending to their own needs and interests. Next time you think of slandering the King of Camelot for his selfishness and disregard of others, you may also think of how he must have felt on his 19th birthday. He spent it pacing in the antechamber of some baron who never even thought of receiving him while the man who owed Duke Athalf his title, his estate and his late wife was out hunting. By a later marriage this man became a liege-man of Camelot and every Beltaine evening Uther shakes his hand, smiling most graciously, because that's how the game is played!"

Under his mentor's punishing stare Merlin tried to put on his best 'I-stand-corrected-face'. "Does Arthur know about the man? That he can't be trusted, I mean?"

"No, of course he doesn't; I've already told you that our most beloved King is an absolute coward when it comes to telling his son anything about his turbulent past! Uther has brought up Arthur to live by some rather lofty ideals and now the father fears that he can't live up to the high and mighty standards he himself has instilled in his son.

If you ask me, Arthur's intelligent enough to piss on the aristocratic rubbish any time if needs be, but if you want to, you can go and tell Uther that. I've tried once, I've tried a hundred times to convince him, and I failed every single time. Harrumph!" The old man snarled exasperatedly while he threw his hands up and banged them back on the table. "Sometimes there is no reasoning with the man! I could tell you stories...!"

"Maybe you could finish the story at hand before you start another" Merlin said while he furtively used some magic as well as both his hands to save their plates and cutlery from the consequences of Gaius' agitation.

"Ah, sure! You're right of course. Now where was I? Oh yes! Well, it became clear that our proud Prince had to forget his high flying plans and to resign himself to a prolonged exile when we heard that barons and council of Tintagel had officially proclaimed and crowned Yvain the ninth Duke of Cornwall. However, he took it astonishingly well, as in the meantime he had found something else to occupy his thoughts with some exclusiveness. He and Igraine had madly fallen in love.

It may disappoint you but, while the affair had every potential to become a great drama of friendship betrayed, hidden passions and unsheathed daggers in the dark, it finally dissolved in a rather unspectacular way. Gorlois was more than glad to get out of his mock marriage, as he called it.

To overcome Camelot's resistance and that of Igraine's family he boldly declared, in writing, that his marriage had never been consummated. There was another very private signing of documents and afterwards Gorlois had his divorce, Igraine was once more betrothed and Uther had given up all claims on Cornwall and Tintagel in order to become first Prince Consort and later King of Camelot; for, believe me, the Kingdom had no desire whatsoever to go to war with Yvain and his army of sorcerers.

Igraine's and Uther's wedding was celebrated in great style only two weeks later; and amongst all the gossip, the derisive looks, the hardly hidden sneers and contempt Gorlois posed as Uther's best man and the newlyweds were blissfully oblivious of it all.

I, for my part, was sweating blood!

I had performed the traditional examination the night before the wedding and I had found out that our virgin bride was four months pregnant. As Uther had been away for more than six weeks back at the time she had conceived the child while Gorlois and Igraine had still been living together in their private quarters it was more than obvious that it must be Gorlois' baby. They both confirmed it when I confronted them with the diagnosis the next day.

Uther was crestfallen; Gorlois mortified and Igraine stammered something I didn't even hear. Until today I have no idea whatsoever of why the two of them had been stupid enough to 'give their marriage a last chance' at a time when they were both resolved to go separate ways as soon as possible. With luck, you can pretend that a fully grown child was born prematurely at seven months, but at _five_ months? Impossible.

After much debating, Uther and Igraine moved into their own house and took up their marital life as if nothing had happened. People were devastated when they heard that Igraine had miscarried after a short pregnancy. She recovered slowly and her coming back to Court with her husband was the last public ceremony the old King attended. He died only a few weeks later and Uther became King, done, at the age of twenty, with Igraine being his Queen at 21. And nobody was the wiser."

"I don't get it" Merlin said. "Miscarried?"

"Don't play dumb with me, my boy. Naturally she had carried the child full term, but nobody was to know that, remember? The birth was very difficult and prolonged, though and Igraine was injured rather badly. The little girl, however, was alive and well – and obviously a born magician, although she couldn't compare with your inborn gifts. As I had promised Igraine I handed little Morgause to a Priestess of the Old Religion and she and Gorlois brought the child to the Blessed Isle. I informed Uther that the child had been a stillborn. He didn't hear the truth from me before Morgause came here to challenge Arthur!"

"But that means that Morgause is Arthur's _sister__!"_ Merlin shrieked. "I don't believe it! Are there any other magicians who are related to the Crown Prince of the most magic hating Kingdom in all Albion? How many siblings of Arthur Pendragon are roaming the country side without him even knowing it?"

"Endred and Morgause are – or were – the only ones" Gaius replied angrily. "Now stop interrupting me or else I'll never finish this accursed saga. Thirty years are a very long time, especially for someone like Uther, so if you want to hear the rest of it, calm your backside and sit tight!

After Morgause's birth we all settled down, nicely and quietly. Uther threw himself with all his heart into his fight against the misuse of magic and the dark powers which had chosen Camelot as their refuge during the late King's reign and I supported him wholeheartedly. For a short while all seemed to be well but naturally it couldn't last. More than a year after her alleged 'miscarriage' Igraine still wasn't pregnant and my suspicion grew that her first pregnancy had left her unable to conceive again. Pressures build up as fast as a thunderstorm on a hot summer day.

'A crown without an heir is doomed to fall!' I guess the saying is as old as monarchy itself and all the people who had sneered and slandered away at Igraine's wedding now repeated it as if it were some evil prayer. Month after month after month the young couple hoped only to see their hopes being crushed every single time. Nothing I tried was of any help.

Nobody in the whole of Camelot was willing to provoke Yvain further by proclaiming Uther, the cast out, the 'extra prince' of the Pendragons, as Camelot's ruler in his own right. So the Council first suggested, then demanded, that Igraine would name her brother Tristan as her heir but Uther would not have it. He had been ousted once by an adult, male rival who was a close relative; he would not take this risk again. Besides, he and Tristan thoroughly detested each other.

Things culminated when someday, during public audiences, a visitor was announced and there she stood. Lordegrade, with six years old Endred at her hand. In public, in front of the assembled Court she demanded a private audience with the royal couple and naturally, she got it.

As Uther demanded my presence I witnessed what to me still is the most base, meanest and outrageous attempt at blackmail I've ever seen. Lordegrade demanded nothing less than that Endred, against all secular and religious laws, would be made heir apparent to Igraine's crown while his mother would be named regent should he succeed Igraine to the throne during his minority. Uther would not only lose every claim to Camelot but also he should have no connection to the boy or his education at all. If her demands were not met, Lordegrade threatened to inform each and every one in Camelot that Uther's marriage to Igraine was invalid on grounds of bigamy.

She relied on the fact that the document which proved his divorce was lost to Uther, it being stowed away safely in Tintagel, together with her own copy. Of course, there was poor me for a testimony but what good would that do? Me being a commoner and dependent on Uther as his subject and she being a Lady of high standing and noble birth?

I refuse to talk about the ensuing verbal duel but somewhere during the bitter fight Gorlois must have sneaked out on us, because when Lordegarde reached her camp that night – naturally she had not troubled herself with staying in a guest house or a tavern – he apprehended her.

I think we all had a tendency to underrate Gorlois' gifts. While we had been thinking in terms of dishonour and scandal he had seen what we had missed: To give in to Lordegrade's demands would be the same as if we signed death warrants for Uther and Igraine.

He was also strong enough to take her by surprise. I don't know what he did but he had her running, screaming in terror, her child in her arms until in the first dusk of the evening he had her cornered on the edge of the cliff that overshadows the river. But there his power ended.

She had sufficiently recovered to fight back now and he barely survived the onslaught of her well trained magic but he could land one, single blow of his sword at her temple. Although only the blunt edge of the blade hit her, she was dizzied by it. She lost hold of the child and little Endred fell twenty metres deep into the rapids of the river. I think her falling child was the last sight she ever saw with her conscious mind.

Meanwhile Uther had sent out the guards and although it was obvious that the soldiers would not stand a chance against Lordegrade's power I ran after them like a stupid dog. When we found her, she wasn't responsive any more, to no one. I think the madness which has consumed her mind ever since had been sleeping within her for many, many years. Her brightness, her unnatural beauty, her superior magic, her temper and her unearthly charms – they had had something manic from the start. I am as convinced now as I have been back then that her insanity was inborn and that it is therefore incurable.

Any road, I tended to Gorlois as best I could while Uther jumped at the opportunity to rid himself of the threat Lordegrade posed to him. He paid her escort handsomely for bringing her back to Tintagel before he returned to Camelot with his wounded friend in tow."

"Didn't anyone think of the poor child?" Merlin asked appalled. "The little one was only six and his first born son!"

"Merlin, frankly, I did not and I do not know what Uther felt or didn't feel. In the heat of the moment he did what was necessary to defend himself and his wife. What he looked like and what he felt when he and a few servants pulled the miserable, mutilated little carcass out of the water or when he buried his son with his own hands in Camelot's crypt in the dead of night – he never told me and I never asked him. I wasn't there, for I accompanied the Lady Lordegrade to Tintagel, as she was in obvious need of medical help. I only left her, fast asleep, at the outskirts of the Cornish capital and rode back home to Camelot like hell.

On my return, Uther had great news for me, or so he thought. The Blessed Isle had proclaimed a new High Priestess and the choice had been a programmatic one. Young Nimueh had no connections to the Pendragon family and she had made it through the ranks by her magical abilities and her cleverness only. On the day of her consecration she had outlawed Yvain for his unlawful strive for secular power. A death warrant had been issued which obliged each and every magician who owed allegiance to the Isle to hunt Yvain down and to turn him over to the Isle's authorities.

Sometime later she announced her visit to Camelot and I was with Uther's train when he welcomed her at Camelot's gates. The festivities lasted a week and at the end of those seven days she had dazzled virtually everyone, including me. Practically she had promised Uther that, with Yvain and Lordegrade being brought back to the Isle for severe punishment, Tintagel and Cornwall would be his again, his original abdication in the betrothal contract with Igraine notwithstanding. It was all bliss, harmony and hope for future peace. I smelled a rat only when Uther began to talk of a magical cure for Igraine's infertility.

Merlin, he was besotted with the thought of having a child of his own out of Igraine. It wasn't the wish for an heir alone, although the recent events and the Council's pressure on behalf of Tristan Dubois had made that wish very urgent indeed. I think it was his way to mourn for Endred, too. You know what he's like, another day, another chance. Shut off the citadel, new people are easier to get than a new army! A new child, this time from the woman he loved more than anything in this world – I really believe he thought this would redeem himself in the eyes of the Gods.

I will never forgive myself that I allowed them to proceed although I knew how badly Igraine had been injured during Morgause's birth. But they were all so sure of themselves. Nimueh was so eager to please; she needed Uther at her side because, although there were only a few elderly Pendragons left on the Isle at that time and most of them in retirement, they still posed a threat to her new authority.

It's true, she told him that there would be a price to pay, that a life would be taken in exchange for the new life she was to form in Igraine's barren womb but she made it all sound so easy, a mere triviality, hardly worth mentioning. Finally Uther, blinded by his believe that he could form his own destiny against all odds, sealed his wife's fate.

For many months Igraine's pregnancy was as unproblematic as you might wish. Nimueh even intended to leave early, as she had had word that Yvain and Maelfwyn had been arrested and were on their way back to the Isle, to stand trial. But then Igraine went into labour prematurely and suddenly it was plain for everyone to see that nothing was well, nothing at all.

Arthur's birth was a bloody mess. Igraine suffered extensively and I thought that Uther would go mad when she, after almost 24 hours, bled to death under our very hands. Nimueh had realized long before I did that the mother was doomed and she had focused on saving the child. Alas, what hopes she might have had that the sight of his handsome, healthy little son would mollify Uther's rage and grief, they were crushed instantly when the King... I mean...this really isn't easy to tell even after all these years."

Gaius drew a shuddering breath and straightened his shoulders. "When Uther took his little son and offered the baby's life in exchange for Igraine's if Nimueh was to bring his wife back to life.

I have to admit, I left them, with Arthur in my arms, when they started to argue as if they both were mad. Sometime later Nimueh must have made it clear that not even she would be able to bring back Igraine from the dead. She fled Camelot this very night, with Uther's curses and threats trailing after her.

For the next few months the King was almost invisible. He locked himself in his quarters and nobody was allowed in. We all made do as best we could. Gorlois organized the funeral and the mourning procedures, Geoffrey handled and presided over the Council while I and the wet nurse took care of Arthur, most of all that his father would not come anywhere near him. We were at our wit's ends after a while, until Tristan Dubois appeared at the castle gates, challenging Uther to a fight to the death, as his wife's murderer and unlawful imposter to her throne.

The challenge brought Uther back from the brink of death. Like a living devil fresh born out of hell he stormed out of his rooms to the armoury, then to the jousting field. It took him an hour but then Tristan lay dead in his blood. I've often seen Uther fight in earnest and in joust and I dare say that Arthur inherited his exceptional warrior skills from his father but the way Uther fought that day to kill his brother in law – it was...special. I've never seen the like again.

It may sound absolutely disgusting and horrible to you, but it was as if Uther had needed Tristan's death to regain his own life. He resumed his duties and step by step something like a normal life and not one, not _one_ of the Courtiers thought about ousting him and searching for a new ruler, now that the lawful Queen was dead. One day he ordered Arthur to be brought back to the nursery and from that day on he has adored his son.

We were all rather surprised when Uther declared that Gorlois was to be the next Duke of Cornwall, as Uther himself had no wish to see his former home, ever again. Gorlois himself announced that he was going to marry again, a young Cornish Lady, a nobody, but seemingly he had a real affection for her. The wedding was held in Camelot in some style, then the new Duke and his Duchess went off for Tintagel. A while later Morgana was born.

As for Camelot, although we all still missed Igraine deeply, everything went back to something like a normal state but then we had word from the Blessed Isle. Nimueh had made her peace with Yvain. At least that's what Uther called it. He was to stay in custody and not to return to Tintagel, but otherwise he would not be punished and he would keep his high rank as an adept of the Great Temple. I, for my part, still think what I've always thought – that Uther should have blamed his own elderly relatives for protecting this bastard of a brother but naturally our dear King blamed Nimueh alone.

It didn't take long before he had convinced himself that Nimueh had planned Igraine's death right from the start, that her terrible end hadn't been an accident but wilful murder. From there it was only a small step to the paranoia you know as Uther's pre-eminent trait of character today. With this single misconception he rid himself of all his guilt for Igraine's death but at the same time he sentenced himself to a lifetime of fear and distrust."

"Was that when he began the great purge?"

"Yes, Merlin, that's how it began!"

The young warlock frowned. "Why did you stay with him, supporting him, even when it came to the life of some of your friends?"

"Why did you stay with Arthur after he had killed Freya?"

The question knocked all air out of Merlin's lungs and he returned Gaius' solemn gaze with so much hurt in his eyes that the physician looked away first. "He didn't know what he had done" Merlin finally muttered. "He didn't know who she was. He knew nothing when he killed her. Besides..."

"Besides what?"

"He is my friend!" the wizard said with all the defiance his roused emotions gave him.

"You have your answer then!" Gaius shrugged. "After all these years, after all what's happened, after he left me in Aredian's claws, why should I still be here if things were the tiniest bit different for me from how they are for you? They both are Pendragons, they both solve problems with the sword and they both sometimes strike where they should have thought first. It's how they are. You as well as I – we both knew that from the start! And yet we let the royal prats into our hearts, so deep that now they could walk all over us without us lifting a little finger to prevent it!"

Merlin's cheeks were hot and he desperately wanted to change the subject. "Was that the end of the story?"

"Of course it wasn't! Albeit all went well for five years, except for Uther's growing obsession with the persecution of sorcerers. But then Yvain saw a chance to take his revenge at least on Gorlois, whom he blamed for Lordegrade's increasing mental decline as well as for taking over his Duchy. You may remember that Morgana once blamed Uther for her father's death? That she thought Uther had abandoned Gorlois on purpose, leaving him stranded, without reinforcements, so that his enemies could slay him on the battlefield?"

"Yes, what of it? It's not true. The reinforcements just came too late!"

"No, they didn't come too late, they didn't come at all because Uther _did_ hold them back on purpose!"

For a moment it was very quiet. Merlin needed a few minutes to let that particular piece of information sink in. "Are you telling me that Uther actually _did_ murder his best friend? After all what Gorlois had done for him? How could he possibly...?"

Gaius rose and stretched his back while he wiped his face with both hands. "He had no choice" he whispered. "Arthur was so very sick! He screamed with pain, his fever rose and rose and all I could tell his father was that the boy had been poisoned with the same damned stuff which had killed Athalf years ago. I needed an antidote I didn't have and we had had a message that someone would provide the potion if these reinforcements never left their barracks. So tell me what would you have done in Uther's place? With your five years old child gasping and panting in your arms, fighting for every breath?"

Merlin kept silent, too horrified to speak.

"The troops never left Camelot" the old man continued "and miraculously I found the antidote on my desk in the very last moment, so Arthur lived and Gorlois was buried for it. Morgana became Uther's ward until she betrayed him as he had betrayed her father and behind every turn and twist of this whole damned mess stood one man and one alone."

With a simmering rage and an almost palpable hatred that otherwise were both alien to the kind healer's nature, Gaius unwittingly flexed his hands. "Had I known then what I know now, Yvain had never lived to see the Blessed Isle, I would have killed him during the journey.

But as it was, we all had and have to live with him. Because Uther has been idiotic enough to have the Blessed Isle destroyed he even made it back to his home and again he terrorised the Cornish enough to make him their Duke. Sorcerer or no, he alone rules Tintagel and Uther's truce with him was good for nothing. For so many years Camelot has kept her side of the bargain and now the godforsaken beast had to come for Arthur again!"

"Why did he do it, what do you think? I mean, now, after all this time?" Merlin thought aloud.

"Isn't it obvious? Arthur is of age now, Uther made him Crown Prince. He thought he'd done it, he'd succeeded in keeping his son safe, keeping Igraine's legacy safe. Now was the time to strike, now Yvain had a chance to get through to his brother's very heart with one stab of the poisonous dagger. I curse myself night and day that I didn't see it coming!"

As Gaius said no more Merlin looked up, only to see his mentor staring into nothingness, obviously at things and persons only he could see in his mind. "What are his demands now?" the wizard asked awkwardly. "What does he want from Uther in exchange for Arthur's life this time?"

"Oh, not much" the old man replied with bitter irony. "Uther is to declare that Endred – or whoever poses as Endred in this dirty game – is his new heir and that his marriage to Igraine was never valid. That Lordegrade was the only true wife he's ever had. As soon as this is done and legally irreversible, Yvain will make an announcement. That Arthur has been miraculously found and rescued by his uncle's troops; that he has been injured and that he will stay in Tintagel for his recovery. After some time has passed, Yvain will offer most graciously that Arthur, now only the younger son, the _illegitimate_ son of Uther Pendragon, will be named heir to the Dukedom of Cornwall on Yvain's death. What little freedom and limited protection this would give to the prisoner is the only thing Yvain is offering in return for the destruction of Uther's life work."

"That's madness!" Merlin stated firmly. "For this to work out, Arthur would have to play along and he'll never do that!"

Gaius sighed heavily. "He'll have no choice. Before Uther stands by while Arthur is rotting in jail for years on end or maybe even tortured, he will _order_ his son to comply with Yvain's demands!"

Merlin untangled his limbs and climbed to his feet. For a moment he watched Gaius' back silently. "So you _do_ believe that Yvain could get away with this."

When the old man didn't answer the warlock sadly bowed his head. "I feel sick" he finally said, very quietly. "I must have eaten too fast. I think I turn in now."

Again there was no reply from Gaius and the young man turned towards his room. Already in the open door, he turned back. "Do you think that Uther is going to meet these demands? That he'll do as Yvain says?"

Once more, there was only silence for an answer. "Gaius?" Merlin tried again "he said Arthur means more to him than his own life. So you don't really think he'd sacrifice his son to save his _face_?"

Gaius let his hands fall. "Stop tormenting me, Merlin. I don't know. I just _don't_ _know._"

The young warlock nodded silently. Then he went into his room and softly closed the door behind him.


	9. Too clever by far

**9. Too clever by far**

Merlin watched the Cornish soldier from the corner of his eye. Ever since the man had left Camelot a week ago, Uther's response to Yvain's demands safely stowed away in his saddle-bag, the warlock had been his constant shadow. Luckily the man made no haste to return to Tintagel. Obviously he was sure that no one would expect him back early.

As he had done in the other ale houses on his way he bragged with the gold coins in his purse and Merlin had to suppress his envy. It had all seemed so easy the night he had decided to follow the man to Tintagel. As seemingly nobody was willing to do something really constructive it was once more up to a special young warlock to save the _Prince's_ backside from one of the _King's_ old enemies. With a cheerful heart Merlin had grabbed all his savings and had thought he'd started his journey as a wealthy man.

Unfortunately it had taken him only three days to realize that - as Arthur had always been the one to pay the bills - he was preciously inexperienced in these matters. Now his purse was almost empty and they had at least two other weeks to go. Something had to happen and it had to happen now, or his bold rescue mission would be over before it had really begun.

The warlock made his way towards the bar where the soldier, already a bit befuddled, dangled a gold coin in front of one of the young women who had chosen this pub as their private hunting ground. While the Cornish continued to whisper his version of sweet nothings to the bored and obviously disgusted girl Merlin took a seat at the man's other side. Loud enough for the soldier to hear he asked the landlord for an opportunity to have a game of dice with 'some decent people'.

As the wizard had hoped the Cornish at once forgot all about the girl and turned round. If this man loved anything more than ale and whores it was a game of dice. "Wha d'ya mean b' decent peple?" he slurred and with a sinking heart Merlin realized that the soldier already had difficulties to keep his eyes focussed on his counterpart. "I'm sittin' here an' I'm decen' enough for any man" the soldier stammered and waved his arm across the bar. "Any man at all, y'hear me, lad?"

"Then you are just the man I've been looking for, Sir" Merlin replied as politely as possible. "How about a little game before you turn in for the night? Gentleman's rules, naturally!"

However, Merlin had to see that his time in Camelot had somewhat spoiled him for the rougher kind of company. His choice of language seemed to be a bit superior to what his counterpart was used to hear. At least, if the man's uncomprehending "Huh?" was anything of a giveaway.

"I mean, Sir" the warlock tried his luck again "we could go over there and have a nice little roll with the dices in private, before we go to bed!" He took a set of dices from the bowl the landlord kept them in and played with them invitingly. The soldier frowned, obviously using up some of his last remaining brain capacity to follow Merlin's drift. Then understanding dawned on his face and he exposed all his rotten teeth in a smile the sight and stench of which made Merlin deeply commiserate every single girl the guy had pawed at during the last few days. "Yeah, lad, splendid idea, c'me on!"

At their arrival in the dark corner Merlin had had his eye upon – a belated arrival as the idiot was hardly able to walk straight – they slumped down. Quickly they agreed on one gold coin per game and began to play. Horrified Merlin realized that he won by far too many games for his plan to work. Finally he took his refuge to magic to get rid of his winnings before the soldier would fall from his chair for good.

Finally the wizard had lost all his former gains and with a quick move he let his purse disappear in his pocket with the rest of his own money. "I'm broke!" he said and feigned to leave the table. "Sorry, no more games tonight. You are too clever for me! Bye."

"But you can't leave now" the Cornish said, suddenly much soberer than before. "You must have a chance to win your money back. I'm a gentleman, am I not? No one can say that I'm not a gentleman! Do you say that I'm not a gentleman, huh? Do you?" and he stretched out his head like an enraged peacock.

"No, of course I don't" Merlin replied hastily. "When I first laid eyes on you I said to myself: There is a fine gentleman for you, Tom, a real gentleman!"

"Then why don't you want to play anymore?"

"As I said, Sir, you are too clever for me by far, and I've lost all my money to you. All I could gamble on now is me and my work and I am pretty sure that a gentleman like you has got all the servants he needs!"

"No, I haven't. Doesn't mean that one's rich when one's a gentleman, does it? No servants for me, doing all the work myself. And it's hard I tell you, being the Duke's messenger. Constantly on the road in all weathers. But if he has a mission to accomplish, one of the real hard sort, he always chooses me, Duke Yvain does. His personal messenger. That's me. But there's no money in it, is it lad?" and he looked sadly down at his dirty boots.

"If you say so, Sir!" Merlin said deferentially. "And you are right, a gentleman, especially a gentleman of limited means, should always take care of his honour and dignity. I tell you what" and he sat down again. "One last game, huh? The winner takes it all. If I win I get all my money back. If you win, I'll go with you and work for you for free until you reach this...this...what's that place you're going back to?"

"Tintagel! The capital! With important news for My Lord Duke. From the King of Camelot himself, no less. An' no fooling around with my master this time, I tell ya. Was as meek as a lamb, his god-damned Majesty was, now that he fears for his whelp!"

Merlin gritted his teeth while he tried to control the hot rage that boiled up in him, making it difficult not to smash in the repulsive face. With a considerable effort he kept on his friendly smile.

"Wow. I'm impressed. The King himself. I'm honoured to be in your presence, Sir. Now, what about this last game?"

"Well, why not?" the idiot smiled and the stench from his breath almost made Merlin choke. A life as a Prince's manservant definitely had some spoiling effects, after all.

They rolled the dices again and Merlin used all his skill to lose. He accompanied his new 'Master' to his room and curled himself up in a corner. Only minutes later the Cornish snored loud enough to rattle the young man's teeth. However, with the comforting thought that from now on the soldier would be the one to pay the bills and that he would have no more trouble to follow the man without being seen, the young wizard dosed off.

Other than he had expected the rest of the journey was rather pleasant. The Cornish proved to be witty and a kind enough soul. He made good-humoured jokes about Merlin's bad luck and sometimes the young warlock had to reprimand himself for beginning to like the man who had spoken so derisively of 'Uther's whelp'.

When they first spotted Tintagel from a distance Merlin did his best to put on a crestfallen face. "Sir?" he said tentatively.

"What is it?"

"I'm thinking...I mean, here I am, without any money and no employment and I thought..."

"You thought what? Spit it out, lad!"

"I thought, maybe you could take me with you, in the castle I mean. Should be much easier for me to find work in the castle than in the town, don't you think?"

"An' maybe a fool or two you can lead on with your dices, eh?" the soldier laughed. "Well, why not? Come inside with me and I recommend you to the cook, he's always a man or two short."

"Thanks Sir! That's most kind of you!" Merlin said with genuine relief and gratitude. Who would have thought it would be _that_ easy to enter the seemingly impregnable stronghold?

As they approached the castle Merlin realized why Gaius had been that intimidated by it. It wasn't only for the oppressive dark walls, the heavy fortifications and the many soldiers he saw in the streets. The air was virtually humming with a kind of magic energy he had never felt before, at least not to such an extent. Cold, sharp, hostile and aggressive it perfectly fitted Gaius' description of a magic that served wars and destruction.

For the first time in his life Merlin felt an instinctive hostility towards something magic. While his own magic curled itself up inside him as if it wanted to escape from this terrifying place, he had a sudden glimpse of how it must feel if one feared sorcery more than anything else.

As they entered the first tunnel between the outer and the inner fortifications a damp darkness engulfed him and his horse whinnied anxiously. Merlin's heart began to race. This had nothing, nothing whatsoever in common with Camelot. This wasn't a castle; this was a death-trap. At the thought that his royal friend was caged in somewhere inside these walls the wizard's heart sank.

Without him really knowing it his senses reached out to find the one he was looking for. But Tintagel kept its secrets as it had always done before.

The soldier rode on steadily and finally they had made it through the last passage and reached the main yard. Some other soldiers and knights came to greet the messenger. Curiously they looked at the young man in his company. The soldier smiled at Merlin radiantly before he turned to his comrades. "Take him, friends! I've brought you one of Uther's spies!"

For a moment time seemed to stand still and all Merlin heard and felt was silent and a ice cold shock.

The warlock was scared stiff by the sudden betrayal. Speechless he stared at his companion who still smiled most benevolently.

"Boy, you've much to learn about our profession!" the man said chuckling. "How on earth could you think that Duke Yvain would choose a complete idiot for a personal messenger? You never even removed the imprint of the Camelot crest from the inside of your saddle!"

Laughing his comrades reached for Merlin to pull him off the horse but that was all it needed to bring him back to life. Unwittingly he snarled loudly at his opponents as his magic lashed out and scattered the men across the ground. The young warlock turned his horse and raced back towards the main gate at top speed.

He had neither time nor thought to wonder why nobody tried to stop him. He saw the gate come nearer and nearer. In full gallop he dived into the last passageway that led straight through the outer fortification rings. He had his relieved smile still on his face when the magic seals hit him with all their vicious power and the world went dark.


	10. No defences

**10. No defences**

Screams. Fire. Death and destruction everywhere he turned. The sky itself was ablaze with flames. Howling winds filled the air with dust and ashes until he choked. His lungs ached and he could hardly breathe. He screamed now too, blinded by pain and fear.

Someone grabbed his arm, then hands cradled his face and a voice spoke to him. Frantic with fear he tried to break free but couldn't. He felt tears run down his face but didn't care. Run, run, get away from here. Escape was the only thing that mattered.

But some one still held him, spoke urgently into his ears. "Merlin! Stop it. Stop it now, Merlin! Don't you hear me? Stop this madness, at once!"

Suddenly it came to him that this voice sounded familiar. That this sound had never threatened him before. That he had actually been _searching_ for this voice. Furtively he opened his eyes and the terror and clamour that had surrounded him ceased to exist. Somewhere above him a face was swimming in the air. He emerged through the haze in his mind slowly, bit by bit, like a diver would emerge from the deep of the oceans.

The moment he finally recognized this face he bolted upwards and threw himself into the pair of arms which belonged to it, clinging with both hands to this neck for dear life.

"Merlin, let go! Let go of me, you're suffocating me. Let GO!"

Two strong hands pushed him back then held him by the shoulders until his breathing slowed down and his eyes came back to focus. Disoriented and almost panicking again he gazed with wide eyes at the young man in front of him. Obviously the other one was sitting on his bed or whatever it was he lay on.

One of the hands let go of his shoulder and brushed his black hair out of his face. "Next time you want to break my neck you could at least give me ample warning, you clumsy idiot!" the familiar voice said and a still heavily panting and very confused warlock stared directly into the face of the Prince of Camelot.

"Where...what...how?" Merlin stammered and he didn't know himself what he was asking for. "Look, Merlin, there's no need to be afraid" Arthur said soothingly. "You have been very ill, that's all, but all's for the best now, so don't you worry, all right? Everything's fine."

While Merlin still tried to process those words he heard another voice that startled him and he backed away from it.

"His Grace wants to see you in his study immediately!"

"Tell him I'm on my way" Arthur said but it was no good.

"No, My Lord. You are to come with me, _now!"_

Merlin's eyes widened when a rough hand took the Prince by the shoulder and dragged him away. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Please, stay here and don't budge. _Promise_ me, Merlin!" Arthur said while he rose from the bed to follow the guard.

Merlin nodded, intimidated by the urgency in his friend's face and voice. Silently he watched Arthur being led away by the strange soldier. Something wasn't right here. No one ever touched Arthur like that. It just wasn't right.

Merlin looked around. He was sure he'd never seen this room before. True enough, it looked somewhat like Arthur's rooms _should_ look but still…. Those glass windowpanes were magnificent, as were the beautifully forged, massive iron grilles that cross-barred them. The black velvet and brocade hangings were splendid, too and yet….. Something seemed very wrong. Everything was superb, perfect really. Then why was it so out of place?

Mindful of Arthur's urgent request the young warlock crawled away into the bed covers. They were made of the finest silk, every single piece showing a ducal crown in meticulous embroidery. But they felt cold to the touch; as cold as the face of the man whose portrait dominated the opposite wall. The whole room breathed the cold splendour and stateliness of a royal tomb.

The young warlock didn't know how he had ended up here but he knew for sure that he didn't want to stay. He would just wait for his friend's return and then they would surely leave this awful place. They didn't belong here. They didn't belong to a place where Arthur's face had this unsettling expression. Where a soldier could claim him as if he were a piece of property. Almost frozen in a fear he didn't even begin to understand Merlin buried himself deeper in the blankets and sheets and began to wait.

Meanwhile Arthur silently followed the guard through the vast corridors of Tintagel until they reached Yvain's study. The soldier allowed the Prince to enter and left. The Duke didn't care much for introductions or announcements. He knew that, if he had given order to see someone, this person would surely be brought to him, no matter what.

"Your Grace wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Come over here!" Yvain put down the seal he had been holding in his hand. "I take it your servant has finally come to?"

"Yes, Sire!" Arthur said flatly.

"How lucky he was that you could identify him. If Maelfwyn hadn't thought of suggesting to me that we should consult you first he would surely have been executed then and there."

"I don't think so My Lord" Arthur replied while meeting the other man's gaze with well feigned indifference. "Surely not before you would have extracted every single bit of information you wanted to retrieve from a man you considered my father's spy."

"You must admit it was a bold move, sneaking on one of my best men like that, entering Tintagel all on his own; obviously looking for you when nobody else dared. And you still insist that he is your _manservant_, nothing more?"

"Nothing more!" Arthur confirmed quietly. "You may not be used to see such things from your servants but Merlin is…special. He has shown an almost insensible sense of loyalty to us at times and obviously he has been born somewhat….deficient. He tends to do foolish things and it always leaves him with the ridiculous urge to make it up to us."

"Especially to you?"

"Yes" Arthur said exasperatedly "Especially to me!" He began to guess where this was leading and he didn't like it. Not a bit. "Your Grace should send him home to Camelot as soon as possible. Even if he wanted to be, Merlin is no threat to anyone, except himself."

"Arthur, I've told you before there are limits to your ability to lie to me!" Yvain no longer pretended that this was a friendly chat. "Maddox, my adept who posed as my messenger, is a skilled magician himself. Your 'servant' may have fallen for his alias as much as your father did but I doubt that Uther would have been able to send a whole bunch of my best men flying across my main yard with a single _thought_!"

"Then your men must be either mistaken or _they _are lying to you!" Arthur repeated heatedly. "Merlin is no sorcerer, if he were it had cost him his life months, even years ago. You know my father's opinion of magicians; from what you have told me it's pretty much of your doing. And it was my _father_ who chose him as my servant!"

"Was it, now" the Duke said with much sarcasm. "And you're right of course; my fanatic brother would never willingly shelter a sorcerer under his roof, let alone employ one. Except for one single purpose, naturally: To protect his son and heir!"

Arthur felt desperate now. He shook his head in denial. "This is madness" he said imploringly. "Please go and have a look at the boy and then tell me again that this an almighty magician whom my own magic hating father for reasons far beyond human understanding has chosen as my body guard! Believe me, the mere thought is ridiculous. This is _Merlin_, for heaven's sake. He stumbles over his own feet on flat ground and he cuts himself every time he lifts a sword!"

"And what's that supposed to prove?" Yvain said derisively. "I knew how to crush a human throat from a ten metres distance before I could as much as raise a sword. When you attacked me you felt what I can do without a blade. My weapons are merely decorations, my dear boy, adornments of my aristocratic rank. I most definitely don't _need _them. Why should your young friend be any different?"

Arthur felt fear well up inside him. He had often feared for Merlin's safety and well-being but never like this. Yes, he had felt what Yvain could do and the mere thought that hapless, sensitive Merlin might experience anything similar made his stomach turn.

When Yvain now laid his hand on Arthur's neck the Prince tried to ease his way out of it. Feeling the furtive resistance the Duke tightened his grip ever so lightly and Arthur virtually froze as he was. "I could force the truth about this boy out of you as easily as I could force the truth of what I told you about your father _into_ you before" the Duke said. "Have you thought of that?"

"Then go ahead" Arthur said hoarsely, never lowering his gaze from his captor's face. "I know I'm in no position to hinder you. But whatever you do to me it won't change the fact that Merlin is merely a peasant boy who works for me. That's all. And now you can call your guards to hold me down for you, I don't care!"

Yvain scrutinized him for a moment before he shrugged dismissively. "I don't think that's necessary." Abruptly he let go of his nephew. "I take it that you're really fond of your so called 'servant'. It's obvious he means a lot to you. So let's strike a bargain, aye?"

Arthur swallowed painfully. This had been unavoidable eventually. But why Yvain had circumvented the inevitable blackmail so laboriously was beyond the Prince. "What do you want?" he asked bluntly.

The Duke smiled faintly. "You know my plans for you. Surely you must also know that, as soon as your friends in Camelot learn that you are alive, they will want to see you. My plans won't work if Camelot suspects that you are my prisoner. Besides, there's the time afterwards to consider. To make a long issue short, there will be some occasions on which you will have to appear in public. On these occasions I must rely on your cooperation and I very much doubt that your father's orders alone will do the trick."

"Is there a point to your long-winded explanations?" the young captive asked coldly.

"To put it bluntly, I will give you detailed instructions for each and every occasion. You follow them to the letter and your young friend will be left in peace. You disobey me in any given thing and you will watch him suffer the consequences. I will hold him responsible for your every move and word. Is this concise enough for you?"

Arthur's shoulders sank. "Yes, it is" he said softly.

"What was that? Speak up!"

"Your Grace has been very clear" Arthur confirmed his surrender somewhat louder. "I understand perfectly!"

"Good! That's settled then. The boy can stay with you for the next day or two. That should give you ample time to explain things to him. As soon as he's back on his feet I'll have him transferred to the servants' quarters where our quarter master can find him some work."

Arthur's head jerked up. "Surely you could let him stay with me?" he said, inwardly cursing his helplessness. "It's not as if you were short of servants yourself?"

"What has become of 'he's merely a peasant boy'?" Yvain laughed in genuine amusement. "It goes without saying that you can't share your quarters with a servant all the time. The quarter master will find the adequate treatment for the boy."

"I've seen what you consider adequate treatment for servants" Arthur hissed, his eyes blazing with barely suppressed rage. "After only a week in your dungeons I've lost count of how many men, women, even children were brought to the whipping pole or to the rack for one triviality or the other."

"Sometimes servants need to be disciplined" Yvain replied unruffled. "Surely your father would agree with me in that."

"There's a difference between discipline and sadism!" Arthur now yelled as anger ousted prudence and tactics.

"And you do not want your friend to be subjected to this …..sadism?" Yvain said calmly. "And what about some other things, eh? For example, the respect _you_ owe _me, _my boy, and by your father's orders, as I may add?"

The young captive looked at the older Pendragon's stern face and looked down, defeated. He knew exactly what the other man wanted to hear. What he had wanted to hear since this mismatched duel had begun. "Please, uncle" Arthur said quietly. "I beg of you. Please leave him alone."

When Yvain didn't answer, the Prince searched his eyes for a reaction but the Duke's face was unreadable. After a long moment Arthur heard him sigh. "If you knew what I would give for you being serious when you call me 'uncle'" he said, suddenly very gentle. "It would mean the world to me if I didn't have to coerce you into obedience, if you would give it to me willingly."

Before Arthur could react Yvain turned and walked away from him. "All right, let's give it a try, then. The boy can stay with you until further notice. Naturally the privilege is forfeited the moment you misuse it. You can go now!"

Utterly relieved Arthur bowed silently and made haste to leave but Yvain's voice stopped him in mid-stride. "By the way, Endred is going to leave for Camelot the day after tomorrow. I thought you would like to know."

Arthur needed a moment to collect his thoughts. "Yes, Your Grace" he finally managed to say. "Of course I would." But then the hurt and fear of his situation won the better of him and he turned back. "Why are you doing this?" he said desperately. "My brother is dead, he died in this fall to the river some 20 years ago, you've told me so yourself. So why send an imposter to Camelot to fight a dead man's fight?"

"What better way to let my dear brother pay for his sins than to force him to admit them publicly, in front of the whole Kingdom he schemed and swindled himself to?" Yvain said and the hatred in his voice drained all blood from Arthur's face. "For every crime, for every cruelty and injustice he committed Uther will pay in the same coin of humiliation and fear. But like it or not I will keep you here until this is all over, with or without your consent. Other than the rest of his enemies I refuse to take it out on you."

The Prince's look fell on his arms. It had been eight days now that the messenger had brought back Uther's response. Arthur had been released from the dungeons but his wrists still showed the slowly healing bruises the shackles had caused. The ordeal of being bound and gagged for weeks on end, paralyzed by restraining magic while they had dragged him half across the country. The anguish of a six months captivity, pain and humiliation of the repeated floggings - it was all still as fresh in his mind as this new, invisible chain around his neck, his fear for this idiotic friend of his who had blindly ran into this hell-hole in a hare-brained attempt to free him.

"You do not really expect me to _thank_ you for that?" he asked his uncle and despite himself the bitterness he felt showed in his voice as much as in his face.

"There may yet come a time when you do" Yvain replied "but for now I content myself with your compliance." He rang a bell and one of the guards appeared immediately. "Escort my nephew back to his room!"

Once outside the young man shook off the soldier's hand and the guard let it go. As soon as they approached the Prince's quarters the turmoil inside was hard to miss. Arthur heard Merlin's unmistakable yelp and started to run.

As he burst into the room, the sight of Maelfwyn and two of his men trying to pin his friend down to the floor made the worn out rest of his self-control crumble to dust. "Let go of him, you damned brutes."

Arthur shot past his guard towards Maelfwyn when his eyes went wide. A hot white light emerged from Merlin's body and hit the attackers. Disbelievingly the Prince saw the three sorcerers stumble backwards, then fall to the ground while Merlin frantically tried to climb to his feet.

Maelfwyn was the first to recover from the onslaught. He stretched out his hand and muttered a few words in the ancient language which were all too familiar to Arthur. He had heard them frequently on his forced journey to Tintagel.

But other than his royal friend had been Merlin was not immediately paralyzed by Maelfwyn's binding spell. From where he stood, frozen in shock, Arthur could not help but see his friend's eyes flash golden and another burst of energy left him. It also hit the other magician, albeit it was much weaker than the first one had been.

Once again Maelfwyn was forced to his knees and he yelled with rage. "I'll have your hide for this, you little bastard!" Tintagel's Court Sorcerer focused his own energy and this time it hit Merlin directly in the chest.

Arthur saw his friend go down and heard him yelp with pain while the three hostile wizards came for him again. It was clear that Merlin had no intention to give up without a fight and this time it would surely be the end of him. Without thinking the Prince ran towards his friend and grabbed his shoulders. "Merlin, stop it!" he yelled. "Stop this, at once. D'you hear me? That's an order!"

He sighed with relief when he saw the frantic expression slowly vanish from the young warlock's eyes. "Arthur?" he murmured "Where have you been?"

"I am here now, everything's going to be all right, just calm down." Arthur hardly knew what he was saying. He turned round to where the wizards still stood. "What did you do that for? Haven't your damned magic weapons hurt him enough already?"

Maelfwyn cleared his throat. "Hold him a moment longer, will you?" he said much softer than he had ever spoken to the young prisoner before. Merlin wriggled closer to Arthur when the older wizard touched him to fasten two small silver bracelets round his wrists. Before the Prince could stop him the Court Sorcerer had magically sealed the locks and rose.

"What are these things?" Arthur demanded to know.

"They're designed to suppress his magic abilities" one of the younger sorcerers replied calmly. In the same moment Arthur felt the body in his arms go limp. As he anxiously felt for his friend's pulse Maelfwyn regained his usual harsh attitude. "Go away from him now!" he ordered.

The Court Sorcerer was completely taken by surprise when the Prince bolted upwards and took his opponent by the collar. "What have you done to him, you damned beast?"

"Was it so easy to forget what I can do, my boy?" Maelfwyn hissed through clenched teeth. "Well, let me remind you…." but for once he stood no chance. Arthur's fist hit him directly in the face, much too fast to cast a spell. This time the Prince had the satisfaction of having knocked out his opponent in the blink of an eye. He struggled hard when the guard soldier grabbed his arms from behind but only until he felt the detested numbness run through his body.

"Leave us!" the wizard who had spoken before said as soon as he saw Arthur's resistance cease. "Out, all of you!"

"But My Lord Maddox, you can't stay alone with him!"

"Are you questioning my orders, Brycan?" Maddox said coldly. "Or are you questioning my ability to keep one unarmed grya in check?"

"N…no, My Lord" the youngest of the Tintagel sorcerers stammered "but…."

"Then I'd advise you to take care of His Eminence instead of pestering me with your obtrusive drivel. Now get out!"

Hastily Brycan lifted Maelfwyn's still unconscious body from the ground. The soldier, who had prudently distanced himself from the sorcerers' quarrel, let go of his captive and supported the wizard on his way out.

At the sound of the door being bolted from the outside Maddox turned towards Arthur who was trying to lift the still unconscious warlock from the floor. He flinched when Maddox came to his aid but he allowed him to help ease Merlin back on the bed.

"There's nothing to worry about, Your Highness" Maddox said gently. "He has to sleep it off. The seals' power has this effect. Tomorrow he will be right as rain, you'll see. His memory will come back to him as if he'd never had lost it."

Now that the immediate danger had passed Arthur's thoughts ran amok in his head. He still couldn't believe what he had just seen. Merlin. His clumsy, idiotic, fragile servant had used magic; magic powerful enough to bring Tintagel's Court Sorcerers and two other wizards to their knees. Arthur didn't want to even consider what the seemingly helpless boy could have done with that kind of power if he had been in its full possession and in his right mind.

"If it hadn't been for his encounter with your accursed seals he could have defeated you all left-handedly, couldn't he?" It wasn't really a question, more like thinking aloud but Maddox answered it nevertheless.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. It's true, I've never seen such raw power before in one that young, but it's completely untrained. He's acting purely on instinct. I doubt he could defeat a trained, experience warlock like Maelfwyn, albeit the instinctive control he has over his magic is….awesome, I have to admit. If it weren't we wouldn't have this conversation right now."

This only caused an even more confused frown on Arthur's face. "What are you talking about?"

"You didn't even feel it, did you!" Madddox stated, genuinely overawed. "When you ran directly into his last shot we were all sure that the onslaught would kill you on the spot. I am sure we all saw our lives pass by our inner eyes at the thought of what His Grace would do to us had you been killed. As blindly as he flailed around his power could be nothing less but lethal but Merlin's deadly energy covered your body, your heart, your head and you felt nothing, nothing at all!"

Maddox' utter fascination showed in his radiant face. "You know, whether we admit it or not, we all dream of a bond like that. A powerful sorcerer faces the same problems a powerful ruler would know. Jealousy among his peers and fear from the lesser beings make for a lonely life sometimes. And to see it happen between an untrained boy, a mere child and a grya" Maddox smiled broadly. "I dare say you've rattled dear old Maelfwyn with that, worse than you could ever have done with your fist."

"So I take it that I am the grya in this?" Arthur desperately tried to make sense of what the other man was saying.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but yes, you are. Come to think of it, it's not _that_ astonishing for an evil magic wrong doer like me to have a nick name for an evil non-magic know-nothing like you?"

"Thanks for the compliment!"

Maddox barely suppressed a sigh of relief when he saw the ghost of a smile flicker across Arthur's strained face. As the Prince's eyes returned to the still form on the bed Yvain's liegeman dared to advance somewhat more. "I know how you've been brought up" he said "but from what I saw from him on our journey from Camelot it was clear that he thinks the world of you. And from what I've seen now I am absolutely sure that he'd never be your enemy, no matter what."

"So that's why your name sounded familiar to me" Arthur said and Maddox could see that the old distrust had come back to the prisoner. "You posed as Yvain's messenger. You lured the perfect hostage into the Duke's trap."

"Merlin shadowed me the moment I entered Camelot." Maddox could hear for himself that Arthur had somehow forced him into the defensive. "From what I saw your father put unusual trust in him. When he followed me on my way back to Tintagel, even _approached_ me, trying to sneak into my trust I had no other choice. But I see that you don't believe me, do you?"

"Frankly, I find it hard to believe that the almighty warlock should have mistaken _you_ for a common soldier." Arthur said with bitter irony. "Look at you. You might have emerged from a gentleman's outfitter only this morning. Doubtlessly even your toes are pedicured!"

"Look again, Your Highness!"

Arthur returned his derisive gaze to the wizard and recoiled in shock. Before him stood a much older man whose bad teeth stank abominably. Hairs unkempt, his whole appearance dishevelled and neglected, Maddox looked every inch the old, primitive war dog Merlin had taken him for. He blinked once and again Arthur faced the overly groomed young noble he had beheld earlier.

"Convinced? I'm sorry to say that your young friend never stood a chance to fool me!" Yvain's spy said and the pride in his abilities was unmistakable.

"It's you!" Arthur replied. "You are the one who's to go to Camelot to pose as my long lost brother!"

"Yes, that's right!" Maddox said quietly. "And my orders are to take your place as Crown Prince for one purpose only: To undermine your father's authority and reputation as best I can. Doubtlessly the news of your survival will motivate the Crown Council to get rid of me rather sooner than later. No matter what your father does or says, they will never accept me as his heir as long as they see a chance to get you back. His Grace is mad to believe that he could keep you against your will and _theirs_ once he's let the cat out of the bag. Eventually this will inevitably lead to my final orders coming into force." Maddox inhaled deeply before he finished his last sentence.

"What final orders?"

"The Duke wants me to kill your father if I cannot accomplish my mission otherwise. If I am expelled from Camelot, I am to poison him, freeing the way for your accession to the throne. Your uncle would release you only on your father's death."

The simple, matter-of-fact death threat made Arthur speechless for a moment. It took a while before he could say anything. "Why are you telling me this?" he finally pressed out.

"Because I want you to play along with your uncle's demands as long as possible" Maddox said. "There's a chance in this. Once the Duke has officially made you his heir – and given the slightest chance he _will_ do it for more reasons than you can imagine – he will have reached a point of no return."

"I don't understand! Are you telling me that you are going to betray Yvain? You? His master spy?"

"I know you've no reason to trust me" Maddox said exasperatedly. "But I trust that you've seen enough of magic to realize that its evilness or value depends on the person who yields it. Or do you still believe Gaius and your young friend over there are evil? Tell me, if you were to become Duke of Cornwall tomorrow, would you continue your father's policy on magic?"

"No, I wouldn't!" Arthur stated spontaneously and only the moment he heard himself say it he knew that it was the simple truth. Whenever it had happened, whether it had been the moment he had felt Gaius' warm and comforting power after those first horrible weeks of isolation or whether it had been today he didn't care. Fact was that he no longer shared Uther's believes. The difference between what Maelfwyn as well as Yvain himself had done to him and what he had experienced from the old healer and his ward had been too great. It was impossible to tar them all with the same brush.

"But what's in that for you?" Arthur asked warily. He knew perfectly well that he was already very much convinced of Maddox's sincerity only because he so desperately _wanted_ to believe that not all hope of freedom was lost. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I was born a Druid!" the wizard stated. "And my people have never had any luck under a Pendragon rule. Your father is in the charming habit to hunt us down like animals. Oh, surely, your uncle provides shelter for every Druid tribe that flees Camelot. Land, seed, equipment – it's all for free in Tintagel. You can even settle land which is not fertile on itself, not without magic help from Tintagel, that is. The Druids see the small-print of the bargain only when it is too late. His Grace the Duke of Cornwall asks for the blood tax only when he knows that a tribe won't survive a second exodus."

"Blood tax?" the Prince asked, appalled by the unfamiliar term.

"It's something the Romans invented" Maddox said and now all bitterness and spite were on his side. "Your father's purge, when it reached and destroyed the Blessed Isle, robbed Yvain and his order of their most important resource – young people who were born with the magic abilities necessary to live up to the Duke's standards. You see, I could train you or any other grya – no offence – as much as I like, it would do no good. One has to be born with magic to be able to be trained as a magician. And even of the born magicians only a small percentage is gifted enough to one day become the kind of war-going sorcerer Yvain's order was created to produce. I've always believed that the word _war_lock was once created for especially this kind of magic ability."

"And this has to do with the Cornish Druids exactly what?" the Prince asked although he already guessed what the answer would be.

"Every few years the Duke has Maelfwyn and a few others investigate the villages that completely depend on him for their survival. They chose every magically gifted child, male or female, that takes their fancy and bring them here. Maelfwyn's wife, Brycan and his wife, as well as me – we've all been born in one of these Druid villages. The old Pendragon breeding programme may have come to an end but your uncle surely has found himself a new one!"

Horrified as he was by the tale Arthur still didn't want to fall for it so easily. "Seems to have done you a world of good" he said apparently unimpressed. "From the way it looks you've made a considerable carrier out of your bad fortune."

"As did my family" Maddox replied sarcastically. "My brothers and sisters were spared and my parents could be relieved. At least until they tried to sneak in here to see me for a few moments after five years. Superfluous to say that, as they lacked Merlin's power, neither of them survived the seals' onslaught. I buried their scorched bodies outside the castle myself. Maelfwyn found that very befitting. He thinks the world of 'discipline'."

"Yes, I know!" Arthur said, remembering his last conversation with Yvain. "They both do!"

"The time in which Duke Gorlois ruled Cornwall was the only golden age my people have known so far" Maddox continued. "I have every reason to believe that under his daughters' rule this golden age might return. As I understand it, both women are your father's sworn enemies but neither of them bears any grudge against you. So I'm offering you a bargain: I promise you to do everything in my power to keep your father safe until my allies have had a chance to rid us – and you! – from Yvain and Maelfwyn! In return you promise me to hand over Tintagel and Cornwall to Gorlois' daughters the moment you succeed to the ducal crown, no matter what your father says!"

"Hand over Tintagel to _whom_?" Arthur asked. "Gorlois left only one daughter and the Lady Morgana has been abducted, most certainly killed by a sorceress named Morgause. Shameful as it maybe, my dear master spy, but your scheme was apparently based on insufficient information!"

Maddox was taken aback by the sudden hostile reply but he regained his composure rather quickly. "I see that His Grace didn't care to share the whole story when he forced himself on you!"

Arthur turned away abruptly to hide his reaction to this painful reminder.

Maddox lowered his head in defeat. "I see now that I've been naïve in thinking a few words from me could convince you to trust me after all you've endured" he said. "But please believe me that I'm willing to keep my side of the bargain if you are to keep yours."

"Which is?" Arthur said with spiteful sarcasm.

"Please try to stay alive, away from Maelfwyn and in your uncle's good will as much as possible!" Maddox said gently. "I've seen enough of you for the last six months to know that everything else can be discussed later. You will not betray us, whether you believe me right now or not."

He braced himself to leave but halted for a moment. "If you could keep your friend in one piece, too, it might be for all our sakes" he said before he closed the door behind him. After six months in Tintagel's custody Arthur wasn't even astonished that the door bolts which kept him prisoner hadn't bothered the sorcerer at all.


	11. Torn apart

**11. Torn apart**

Arthur chastised himself for wailing in self-pity when he once more failed in distracting himself from his homesickness. The chains that bound his hands clang softly as he angrily wiped his face. His body ached with the desperate wish to leave this damned cell, to be free of the restraints as well as of constant surveillance Yvain's Court Sorcerer kept up.

"Speaking of the devil" the Prince thought sourly at the sound of the door being opened in exactly this moment. "Really Maelfwyn there is no need to trouble yourself again" he said sarcastically. "Neither have I developed wings nor the ability to walk through solid walls since you last checked in on me!"

"That's good to hear, but it's not Maelfwyn you are speaking to!"

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice the Prince darted around as much as his restraints allowed. He straightened his back reflexively when he found himself confronted with the man who had very much occupied his mind but so far had never shown himself.

Albeit his wishes and demands had determined every last shred of Arthur's existence for the last few months the Lord of Tintagel had kept a remote distance from his prisoner. Until now.

Yvain scrutinized his young counterpart. If he had hoped for some signs of anticipation or nervousness he was disappointed. Arthur had overcome his surprise rather quickly. He returned the Duke's gaze impassively, silently refusing to acknowledge his captor's presence and it was Yvain who lost his patience first. "I take it you know who I am?"

"Indeed, Sir." Arthur replied coldly. "Master Maelfwyn has been untiring in his efforts to force the singular greatness of your person on me together with your unwanted hospitality!"

"Has no one taught you to greet a superior properly?" If Yvain was rattled by the derisive repartee he didn't show it.

"You could make me your prisoner, My Lord but not your subject!"

Yvain shrugged. "You have every right to be angry, of course" he stated matter-of-factly. "You were taken prisoner for no fault of your own and to put it bluntly, I will not release you any time soon."

The Prince swallowed painfully at the announcement of his prolonged captivity. "If that was all you wanted to tell me Your Grace shouldn't have humbled yourself by coming here!"

"I see that you haven't been taught not to provoke a lion that has you in his fangs either! You may have your mother's angelic looks but this devilish pride is Uther's inheritance. I'd recognize it anywhere!"

"What is my father's pride to you?"

"Everything!" Yvain said with some emphasis while he walked towards the young man until he effectively cornered his captive against the wall. "I see it would be useless to pester you with empty apologies but I think I owe you an explanation. I could use your father's own words..."

With that he held up a letter which boldly showed the Camelot seal. The Duke smiled with visible satisfaction when he saw Arthur's heartbeat speed up in his throat. But the Prince was too proud to try and wrestle for the parchment. Arthur never lowered his eyes from his captor's gaze.

"I doubt that Your Grace has anything to say about my father that interests me!"

"Either you do as I say and hear me out quietly or I call for the guards to pull your chains tight until I'm through with you." This silenced the captive enough for Yvain to calm down. However, when the Duke began to speak the young man's compliance quickly came to an abrupt end.

"I don't believe one word of this crap!" the Prince shouted at the top of his lungs.

"I have your father's written confirmation for it, signed and sealed!" Yvain stated sternly. "Together with his orders for you. From now on you owe me the same respect and obedience you would show to him if he were here!"

The Duke watched his nephew carefully while Arthur scrolled through his father's letter; then read it again, more carefully.

"It's a fake" the Prince said coldly. "My father never wrote this! Who did it? Maelfwyn? Or do you have other criminals among your men who could do a job like this, _My Lord Duke_? What else is your Court but a bunch of bandits?"

Yvain met the young man's accusing gaze with a maddening calm. "You, of all people, should know your father's hand and his private seal! Besides, I asked my brother to imply some things in the letter. Things only you and he would know."

Yvain relaxed visibly as a shadow of uncertainty flickered over Arthur's face; valid prove that Uther _had_ really played along with that, too. But the Duke's relief was somewhat premature.

"What did you threaten to do to me to make my father write this...dirt?" Arthur hissed. "Was slandering my mother your price for my life? She died when she gave birth to me and now you are forcing my father to declare me her _bastard_?"

"Astonishingly enough it's obvious that your father loves you. I would have thought him incapable of such an emotion but obviously I have been mistaken. Nevertheless, in this letter he's merely stating the truth. Lordegrade was and is your father's only wife. It's Uther's fault that he made your mother his whore!"

Arthur forgot his situation, forgot that he was chained and that the guards outside were merely waiting for an opportunity to prove the power they had over their royal prisoner. The blow came quick as lightning and Yvain was unable to block it. Only the short length of the chain saved him from the impact.

The Duke reacted quickly and his eyes flashed golden.

Suddenly Arthur felt his muscles abandoning him. A painful numbness progressed through his limbs, like molasses would slowly cover a struggling insect. His body began to ache as if thousands of ants were crawling under his skin. "No! Let go of me, you bastard!"

The young man's spine went limp under a burning pain and with hopeless recognition Arthur realized that his captor had cast a restraining spell, exactly as Maelfwyn had done every single time his prisoner had tried to fight back on the never ending journey to Tintagel.

The desperate fight was over before it had even begun as Yvain effortlessly pinned his attacker face down to the floor. He felt Arthur fight his grip although he stood no chance. "Be quiet, you damned hothead. If the guards were to see us thus I'd have no other chance but to keep you in this dirty hole to all eternity!"

Yvain pressed his free hand on Arthur's mouth and let go of another painful burst of magic. The magician's hand tensed when he heard his nephew's muffled yelp of pain. The wizard waited for the prisoner's muscles to relax but he was disappointed. Only after a second hit Arthur gave up his struggling.

The Duke waited a moment longer before he rolled the captive over to rest on his back. "What was that about? Heroic suicide or what?"

"If I had taken you with me, it would have been worth it! And you claim to be my father's brother, you filthy sorcerer! Now let go of me!" In vain Arthur tried to free his wrists from Yvain's hand.

"All right, if you want to play this the hard way, who am I to argue with you?" Once more Yvain's eyes changed colour and Arthur's world crumbled around him until he was surrounded by darkness. He lost all feeling of his body. From somewhere out of the dark he heard Yvain's voice. "Sometimes words are not enough, I can see that now. But my memories can't lie to you!"

A split second later the images, thoughts and feelings which had been bottled up in the Duke's mind for decades flooded the captive's mind. In a few moments Arthur relived everything Yvain had thought and felt, down to the taste, the smell and the sound of things. Who had done and said what. To whom. And how it had felt. A mortifying stream of pain, triumph, hatred, love and joy forced its way into the Prince's mind, invading every corner of his soul, fighting his most sacred memories and feelings. And the painful, hot stream of energy didn't stop, no matter what he did, it just didn't stop….

Arthur's anguished screams were smothered when Yvain's hand once more pressed down on his mouth. He kicked and struggled uselessly until he was exhausted enough to just lie still and let it happen. When it was finally over and Yvain released him he instinctively curled up into a ball.

The headache was paralysing. Nausea made his head spin wildly and seemed to last an eternity until the pain ran out of his body like water from a can; leaving emptiness and confusion behind where surety and confidence had been before.

But Yvain hadn't finished yet. He waited until the young man's ragged breathing had calmed down somewhat before he pulled him to his feet. "I give you ten minutes to come back to your senses before I send in the guard. I think it's time for you to meet someone. Someone very special. You'll better be on your best behaviour or you'll live to regret it."

Arthur hardly noticed the guard's entry. He didn't stir when the man freed him from the shackles only to tie his hands once more behind his back. The long climb from the dungeons to the main castle where Yvain was waiting for him was merely a blur of movements and sounds that made no sense. Only when the Duke dismissed the guard and grabbed him by the arm the Prince's mind cleared sufficiently to try to break free. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough". Yvain forced his captive to go upstairs. The stair seemed endless and after a short while Arthur's weakened leg muscles protested ferociously. "Where are you taking me?" he asked again. Whether it was the exhaustion showing clearly in his voice or something else, Yvain decided to treat his captive to a short pause.

"I thought it might be time that you see the woman whom your father has so cruelly wronged. The woman for whose sake you've been brought here in the first place. Finally, after all these years, I will see justice done to the Lady Lordegrade, no matter what the costs. Only if my brother is willing to declare that your brother was his only legitimate heir and that Lordegrade has always been his lawful wedded wife – nothing less, mind you! – I will acknowledge you as my second nephew and heir to my Dukedom, as if you had been born legitimately."

Still breathing raggedly and with trembling muscles Arthur tried to prolong the absurd conversation as long as possible.

"But don't you see the injustice in this?" he said. "You're sentencing me to years of captivity or even death for something which happened before I was born."

However this proved fatal. With the veins in his face and neck swollen and his face flushed Yvain suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs. "Don't you dare to talk to me about what's just and what is not. For decades I've been waiting for a chance to rectify the wrongs that have been done to the only woman I ever..."

Panting heavily, his usually superior, composed face a contorted grimace of rage, despair and deep hurt he towered over his captive with his hands clenched tightly.

Although he knew it to be hopeless Arthur opened his mouth for another useless protest, another argument which would bounce off the fanatic in front of him; falling to ears that had been deafened decades ago by jealousy, hurt pride and the unbearable pain of love and devotion being shunned and dragged through the mire. It was all as raw and fresh as it had been decades ago and it still bled vengeance and hatred, as untamed by time as it would ever be by mercy or understanding.

Whatever his nephew had wanted to say, Yvain cut him short brusquely. He grabbed the young Prince's collar and dragged him further up the stairs. "I'll show you what real injustice looks like" the Duke hissed through tight jaws. "I'll show you and then you'll kiss my feet in gratitude that I abstained from skinning you alive in front of Uther's very eyes."

The Duke was oblivious to his surroundings, the aghast looks, the brief screams of shock or disgust while he dragged the young man through the corridors and further upwards until they reached the top floor of one of the castle's southern towers.

Yvain's hands still shook and trembled with rage and nervousness while he fumbled with a set of keys. Finally the lock gave way and the door swung open.

Pushed forward by the Duke Arthur entered the perhaps most magnificent suite of rooms he had ever seen. Tapestries, carpets, hangings – the fine silk and brocades were exquisite. Paintings covered the other walls, giving the illusion of trees, birds and spacious terraces under an eternally blue and cloudless sky. The furniture, unmistakably that of a great Lady, easily outshone everything that could be seen in Camelot.

She sat in all this splendour and was utterly forlorn. Lordegrade would never see it, never feel it, never appreciate anything of what Yvain's loving care had provided her with. Her once lush abundance of auburn hair grey, her emerald eyes dull and lifeless and her pale lips curved in a smile only she would know the reason for, she was staring into nothingness.

Yvain went to her and knelt at her side. With utmost tenderness he took her hand and kissed it gently. "My love, you have a visitor" he whispered. "Look who has come to pay his respect. It's Uther's younger son, my darling. I promised to bring him to you one day, don't you remember?"

The older Pendragon's hand caressed her cheek, then her neck and still she didn't react to anything he did. "Now he's here we can bring you back to where you belong, my sweetheart. To your rightful place. It's what you always wanted. Your dream will come true now!"

Finally her eyes turned towards him, slowly, ever so slowly coming back from realms invisible to anyone but her. She smiled and raised her hand to stroke his head before her eyes wandered to Arthur.

Ignoring Yvain's angry glare the Prince stood frozen in place by the door. The Duke growled impatiently and forced his prisoner to go to her and kneel by her side.

Gradually, bit by bit, her eyes focused on the young man. She reached for Arthur's cheek. He flinched violently when she caressed it softly and only Yvain's hand kept him from pulling away. Her smile became broader but then it suddenly faded. Anxiety, then some kind of despair and anguish came to her face. "Endred?" she whispered. "Are you finally back, my son? Where have you been?"

Arthur looked into her anxious eyes, felt her soft touch on his face and his disgust and rejection melted away. "I am so sorry" he muttered. And suddenly, necessitated by some inner urge he himself would have been at a loss to explain he added "I am so sorry, mother; I should have come much earlier. Please forgive me."

Yvain's hand let go of him. For a moment no one spoke while the sick woman just continued to caress the young man's face. Then, all of a sudden, Arthur felt Yvain's hand again, dragging him away from her side with all his strength.

The first high pitched scream rang out in Arthur's ears. The screaming went on and on even though Yvain shoved him back and once more rushed to her side, making desperate attempts to calm her. She wriggled in her chair as he tried to keep her down. With astonishing strength she shook him off and only a second later her hands became claws.

Pulling back was all Yvain could do to protect his eyes when she came for him with all the power her madness gave her.

Seemingly out of nowhere a woman came running. "Now, now my love, what have they done to you, hush, dear, hush, it's all right, it's all for the best. I'm here with you, I'm here." Cradling Loredegrade in her arms, dandling her to and fro the woman never ceased to repeat her soothing sing-sang until her patient actually calmed down and began to cry.

The pitiful wailing followed the two men to the staircase and down the stairs, long after the door had once more been locked.

Arthur fought another spell of nausea after they had left the tower for good. If it was for his former ordeal or for what he had seen in the tower he didn't know but even after they had reached Yvain's study his hands were ice cold and he trembled slightly.

"Satisfied by what you saw?" Yvain said coldly and the Prince shuddered at the embitterment and hatred these few words revealed. "This is Uther's doing. His and that of his good friend Gorlois. They brought her to this."

All of a sudden Yvain slumped down in a chair and buried his face in his hands. "You should have known her before your father was through with her" he said softly. "You should have known what she was and what she could do and now... Look at her and then tell me again that I have any reason, any at all to spare my brother."

With an effort he straightened his body and inhaled deeply before he directly looked at his captive for the first time since he had left him in the dungeons. "It was a kind thing to do, though, to be responsive to her as you were. I didn't expect that from you."

From somewhere in Arthur's mind the unfamiliar picture of an unbelievably beautiful woman rose, laughing, dancing in the sun, showering herself and the young sorcerer she embraced with a cloud of butterflies her magic had conjured into existence…. Suddenly the picture was gone; leaving a feeling of emptiness and loss that was hard to endure. "She was glorious once, wasn't she?" he whispered.

Yvain bit his lip as if he suddenly felt unsure of himself. Or guilty. "I am sorry if I hurt you earlier" he said gruffly. "If it hadn't been for your stubbornness it hadn't been necessary. Let that be a lesson to you. If you cross me, you'll regret it."

He rang for the guard. "Any way, I think it's no longer necessary to keep you in the dungeons now that your father has given in to my demands."

Roughly he untied Arthur's hands. "The guard will escort you to some decent quarters. I trust you will heed your father's orders enough not to force me to have you incarcerated again. If you don't force my hand, I'm perfectly willing to treat you with all the decorum that's due to my nephew."

With his mind being in a complete chaos Arthur didn't know what to think anymore, whom to believe and whom to mistrust. He just wanted to be left alone, to have some time to sort things out and he gave a damn whether this would be in a dungeon or in a palace. His knees buckled with relief at the guard's entrance. All he wanted to do right now was leave this room for good.

The guard panted while he bowed to his Lord. "Your Grace, when the messenger brought back the King's reply he ordered the arrest of a Camelot spy he had brought with him. The spy ran into the seals while attempting to escape. We wanted to execute him but Lord Maelfwyn thought it'd better if the prisoner were to identify him!"

His stomach a tight knot of fear Arthur was already half way out of the room when the guard, at a short order of the Duke, joined him. Outside the soldier led the way until the three of them reached the outer fortification ring and the group of people who surrounded a bundle of clothes that lay on the ground.

While he approached the unmoving bundle Arthur's heart began to race painfully in his chest. These clothes, this form – it couldn't be. Oh for Gods' sake it mustn't be.

Unaware of Yvain's sharp orders that gave him space to move he knelt by the bundle's side and carefully turned the man – it was a man as he now saw – on his back. The jet black hair, the pale skin now covered in blood and the lanky frame were unmistakable. They made Arthur wanting to throw up then and there.

"Do you know him?" Yvain's sharp, unforgiving voice. "Answer me, if you please!"

"Yes, I do know him" Arthur said "He's my servant. He must have come for me. His name is Merlin!"

He looked up at the Duke. "Please, you must help him" he pleaded desperately. "He's badly hurt. Please!" In this moment he didn't think what he was doing or what the consequences of his imprudent behaviour might be. He only saw the blood stream from the young servant's head and the pulse flutter unevenly in his throat.

The blood kept coming, streaming, streaming…...…

"Arthur, wake up. Wake up, please. It's only a dream, a nightmare."

With a jerk the Prince bolted up, almost knocking over the young man who anxiously tried to wake him.

"Good heavens I thought you'd never stop screaming" Merlin said "must have been quite a dream!"

For a second Arthur's disorientation was nauseating. He stared at his surroundings for a whole minute before realization of where and what he was kicked back in. With it came an all too familiar apprehension and he strained his ears for some sounds from the doors. The last thing he needed now was some sneaky guard checking up on him because he had screamed his head off during a nightmare. Or Maelfwyn; for heaven's sake. As everything kept silent he let his head fall back down in utter relief.

"Arthur? Are you sick?" This tentative, hesitating voice couldn't possibly be Merlin's, could it? The Prince looked at the other man quizzically. "What are you doing up?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be in bed, master sorcerer, 'sleeping it off' as they say whatever that means?"

Not even the dim light that filtered through the windows could hide that Merlin paled at the words 'master sorcerer'. Silently he crawled from the divan Arthur lay on and made haste to go back to the other room.

"Hey, wait. What does this mean? First you run into this trap only to see me then you can't stand the sight of me? What's up?"

"You've seen me" Merlin whispered almost inaudibly. "You know what I am!"

"And what are you then?"

"A sorcerer! An evil being. A filthy magician. Call me what you like!"

The Prince winced slightly at the bitterness that showed itself in these few words. "The way I felt when you send this damned Maelfwyn and his helpmates to the ground, I'd be hard put to find something evil in what you did." he chuckled softly. "Really, I haven't felt that great since these rascals grabbed me in the woods."

He jumped to his feet the way Merlin knew so well and walked to his friend casually. "Although I'd rather had you'd stay at home where you belong. I can't exactly recommend this as a vacation spot."

The warlock turned around, his wide eyes shimmering in the limy moonlight. "You aren't angry?" he asked haltingly. "I thought you must be angry when you find out what I am!" As he raised one hand to brush his hair out of his face the light shone on the silver bracelet round his wrist and Arthur's heart missed a beat. "Does this hurt?" he asked, pointing at the thing. "They said it wouldn't, but…"

Merlin seemed to notice the bracelets only now. He frowned in confusion and tried to rip the bracelet off his left arm but it wouldn't budge. He ripped at it stronger, impatiently. "Merlin, maybe you shouldn't…." but it was already too late.

It was all Arthur could do to catch him when the warlock fell to his knees, whimpering. "Let go of the thing. Don't touch it!" With one hand he tried to loosen Merlin's grip on the bracelet. The warlock's head fell to the Prince's shoulder when his fingers finally lost contact with the metal.

"So much for this wouldn't hurt" Arthur said acidly. "Bloody bastards!"

"What happened?" Merlin asked, gasping with the pain in his arm.

"They said the things hamper your magic abilities. That you can't, you know, do any sorcery as long as you're wearing them." Arthur blushed when he noticed that he was secretly relieved to have more time to adjust to the fact that his innocent-looking servant was a sorcerer. But this didn't mean he liked the mortifying things themselves. "Apparently they also made sure that you can't take the buggers off!"

"Who are 'they'?"

Arthur let his shoulders fall. "And that much for your memory coming back automatically! 'They' are the most illustrious Maelfwyn, who happens to be my beloved uncle's Court Sorcerer and, as a side-line, kidnapper and head jailer if the occasion arises. Together with his puffed-up bunch of confederates he tries his very best to make my stay here an unforgettable one. Does this ring a bell with you?"

For a moment Merlin kept silent. "So you know that Yvain is your father's brother?" he then asked. "Gaius said that they had told you nothing at all."

"They didn't. Only when my father's surrender arrived His Grace decided to enlighten me!" As he remembered his dream an involuntary shudder ran through Arthur's body and betrayed his feigned light-heartedness. At once Merlin looked at him with this inquisitive gaze he kept special for such occasions and the Prince needed a quick distraction. "Come on now. Back to your feet" he said and pulled the warlock upwards.

Naturally this didn't work. "What _did_ Yvain tell you then?" Merlin demanded to know.

"You better take care that nobody hears you calling him by his first name, it could cost you dearly!" Arthur replied in another futile attempt to change the subject.

"It's just that..." uncharacteristically Merlin interrupted himself.

"Look, we better get some sleep while we can, who knows what my dear long lost relatives have in mind for us tomorrow" the Prince said, extremely grateful for the other's unexpected willingness to drop the subject. "Would you mind taking the divan? It's rather comfortable, really!" Arthur knew he sounded like a spoilt brat but he had no intention of explaining that Yvain might take even Merlin's preliminary use of the bed for an excuse to expel him from the room altogether.

"Relativ_**e**_!" Merlin said stubbornly.

"What?"

"Relative. Singular, not plural! Remember? You once explained these words to me!"

"Merlin, what on earth are you talking about?"

"There's only one relative here. Yvain is your uncle, this madwoman Lordegrade has nothing to do with you and Endred is dead!"

From somewhere inside him an alien feeling of rage and defiance rose and only in the very last moment Arthur refrained from hitting his friend then and there. "What would you know about it? You have no right to insult her!" he yelled, only to bite his lip immediately afterwards. Shaking with terror at his own reaction he hid his clenched fists behind his back. However it was too late for that.

At the sight of the hands ready to attack Merlin had recoiled a few steps. He kept his distance even after the Prince apparently had regained his self-control. "I know what Gaius has told me" he said tentatively. "Maybe it wasn't right but we were so worried that this damned monster might tell you a bunch of lies, to bring you under his heel."

"I wasn't aware that my and my father's private affairs are subject of common gossip in the Court Physician's quarters!"

Merlin winced at the acid tone of this remark. "Arthur, please" he tried again. "At worst he has told you some atrocious lies about your father. At best he has told you only _his_ side of the story. Are you really telling me you're not interested in hearing what Gaius knows about this? He witnessed it all and you know he wouldn't lie to me nor I to you!"

Arthur still battled the inexplicable rage and the urge to strike, and to strike hard, this rage created against his will. At Merlin's words he suddenly knew that this rage was not his own. That he was reliving another man's feelings the way he had been forced to do before. However, there was one memory at the forefront of his mind that couldn't be Yvain's.

"You've lied to me before" he said, dangerously low and calm.

"Look, Arthur, I always wanted to tell you about my magic but..."

"I don't mean that, although keeping it from me for all this time was atrocious in itself. I'm talking about the day you swore to me that Morgause hadn't told me the truth. That my father hadn't used magic to bring me into this world. And that he had _not_ sacrificed my mother's life to get an heir!"

Merlin's outstretched hand sank down. Of all the things he had expected to hear this was the one he hadn't thought of. But it seemed so obvious now. Naturally Yvain would explore this vulnerable spot in Arthur's soul. Naturally he would …... but come to think of it, this had been a very, _very_ private affair. Except father and son only Merlin himself, Gaius and Leon had been involved. How was Yvain to know? A half-forgotten memory came to his mind, something he had read and quickly cast aside, sick to his heart by the mere thought of what magic could be used for.

"What has the monster done to you?" he said hoarsely. "How has he...?"

To Arthur it sounded like another evasion and he was provoked beyond endurance by it. Virtually snarling he pushed the warlock against the nearest wall. "Answer. My. Question! Did you or did you not lie to me that day!"

"I did not" Merlin said softly. "Your father never intended your mother's death. He was devastated by it. He had loved her so much, Gaius was sure he wouldn't survive her death. But..."

"But what? Spit it out!"

"But it is true that you have been born by magical means. Nimueh, the woman you saw by the cave where you found the Morteus flower? She promised your father that she could cure your mother's barrenness but something went horribly wrong. It was nobody's fault, it was an accident. Maybe Nimueh overrated her abilities or maybe Gaius should have insisted on even more precautions but nobody was _guilty_ of your mother's death!"

"But my father blamed all sorcerers for it because he _felt_ guilty" Arthur said, completely sobered. His former rage and hurt were drowned by what he had heard. "He killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people because he wasn't able to live with his own conscience."

Very furtively Merlin laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "It wasn't only that. After what his own brother had done to him, after what this madwoman had done to him" Merlin decided to leave out the part with the forced divorce right now "he had every right to be distrustful of sorcerers."

Inwardly the warlock shook his head at himself. "Listen to me" he thought "here I am, defending Uther the mass murderer. Again!"

"When Nimueh let him down he thought she had betrayed him too!" he continued.

"You know that he would kill you on the spot if he knew what you are!" Arthur said.

"I don't care right now" Merlin replied hotly. "Uther is far away right now but _you_ are here. I may have blundered the whole 'rescue and escape' part of the plan but that doesn't mean that I will stand by idly while your own uncle tries to tear you apart with his lies!"

"How often have you done this?"

"Done what?"

"Felt obliged to save my arse by risking your own!"

"I don't know. I must have lost count a year ago!"

"That bad, eh?" Arthur briefly covered his face with both hands but Merlin heard him softly chuckle. He decided to strike the iron while it was hot. "Would you tell me what Yvain did?" the warlock asked again. "Maybe I could set things straight a bit. These emotions you seem to have … he could have forced them on you!"

A whole blend of emotions battled inside the Prince until one thought emerged from of the turmoil. "You already know what he did, don't you!" he stated. "Could you... I mean have you ever done...something like that...to anybody?"

To Merlin the question was like a slap to his face. "No" he stammered. "No, of course not.. I wouldn't... I'd never. How dare you even think that of me!"

"Well, it was magic, you _are_ a magician after all, so what's so absurd about this question? You seem to know perfectly well what we are talking about!"

"And what does that prove?"

"Well, it's what magicians do, isn't it. Use their powers on other people to get what they want."

Merlin's throat was narrowed by an ice cold rage of his own now. "I didn't know you've ever forced yourself on Guinivere!" he said.

"I did not!" Arthur shouted, deeply offended. "You know I wouldn't do such a thing!"

"Well, it would need strength, you _are _stronger than her after all and it seems you know perfectly well what we are talking about!"

This definitely took the wind out of Arthur's sails. It occurred to him that an apology might be in order but he couldn't bring himself to actually _saying_ it. "We shouldn't have this conversation!" he muttered instead. "Come to think of it you shouldn't even be here! You only made things worse by running after me like an idiot."

It took the warlock a moment to find his voice again. "I'm sorry" he finally said, very stiffly. "It wasn't my intention to inconvenience you, Sire!" It was all he could do not to snivel. "Maybe I should go back, then. As you are doing so fine here, all on your own!"

Arthur couldn't help himself, he burst into desperate laughter. "Yes, Merlin, you do that. Ask the next best guard for a horse and a safe passage and they'll be overjoyed to oblige, I'm sure of it. Especially after my beloved uncle told me how glad he is that you could come!"

"What does he care whether I'm here or not?" Merlin asked in utter confusion. "It's not as if I were one of your knights, or your brother or such." He even regained some of his original goofy mood. "Your father always says how very expendable I am!"

The Prince let his head fall in utter exasperation. There was nothing for it than to sail plain in this. "To my father, maybe" he said. "To me, that's another matter. And unfortunately my loving uncle in his tender mercy is, for once! more interested in what _I_ feel than in my father's opinions. Do you follow my drift or shall I spell it out for you more slowly?"

Merlin felt his cheeks grow hot as understanding slowly dawned on him. Horribly embarrassed he avoided his friend's gaze and scraped the tip of his foot over the floor. "I hadn't thought of that" he said miserably. "I thought..."

"Yes, I'm beginning to understand what you _thought_, my dear master sorcerer" Arthur said in the same exasperated manner. "You thought you could come here, yield your magic abilities and watch my dear uncle and his confederates fall to their knees while the two of us merrily ride away into the glowing sunset without anybody being the wiser of how you achieved this, especially without _me_ being the wiser! But it didn't work out quite like this, did it. You ended up with your magical hands being bound, quite literally, and without them you're only a skinny boy who doesn't know how to hold a sword. You're as much a prisoner as I am. Even more so because Yvain needs me alive, at least for a while longer, but he doesn't need _you_. Actually nobody would care whether you live or die, except me and the effect of all this is that my dear uncle could leave this door unlocked, if he wanted to, together with all of Tintagel's gates; he could even shove a horse under my backside. As long as he holds a knife to your throat I could as well be chained to the wall with both hands."

Arthur's outburst had come as somewhat of a surprise to both of them. It left the Prince breathless while Merlin only stared at him.

"Do I mean that much to you?" the warlock finally said, very awkwardly.

"Merlin, stop it, please, I beg of you. Just leave me alone!"

A moment later Arthur swallowed hard at the sound of furtive feet softly padding away from him as far as they possibly could. Damn the clumsy idiot, damn him to hell!

While Merlin curled himself up on the forsaken divan, Arthur did the same in a window sill and for a while they both sulked silently in their respective misery. However it was Merlin, in his physical exhaustion, who finally dozed off to a light and fitful sleep. His royal friend did nothing of the kind. Instead he tried his best to sort things out, to differentiate between what Yvain had forced into his mind and what he himself thought and remembered, but he failed miserably.

Where once had been a genuine affection for his father was now only anger, spite and repugnance. And worst of all he had no idea whether these feelings were his or whether they were Yvain's. After hours of silent, fruitless self-torment he would have given almost anything for only a few minutes with Gaius. He remembered his childhood in which the old healer had been his bastion of calm whenever things between him and Uther had become awkward or turbulent.

Finally he offered total, unconditional surrender to himself. There was no other way. He hated himself for it, but there was no other way if he wanted the surety he craved so urgently. Anything, virtually _anything _would be better than this torturing, never-ending brooding.

He slipped out off the corner and made his way towards the other room. Brusquely he shook the warlock out of his sleep. "Okay, maybe you're not completely wrong" he said coarsely. "If you show me yours I will show you mine!"

"_What_?" Merlin bolted upwards to a sitting position.

"I mean, _Mer_lin, I am going to tell you what my uncle wants me to believe and you, with all your superior wisdom from your gossiping with Camelot's Court Physician, can tell me whether it's true or not! Got it? And afterwards we need to have a little more detailed conversation about this magic of yours!"

The latter part drove the goofy smile which had begun to appear on the warlock's face away in the blink of an eye. In a vain attempt to stall he rubbed his eyes_. "_Do we have to?" he moaned.

"Yes, Merlin. We have to!" was Arthur's stern reply.


	12. Head over heels

**12. Head over heels**

"So you're saying that the facts Yvain gave me are true but that he ...twisted them, to fit in the version of the story he has made up for himself?" Arthur said musingly.

Merlin shrugged. "More or less, yes. That's the essence of it. If the story were a house I'd say he took the ceiling to make the floor and the door frames to build the walls."

"And it wouldn't be that you are condemning the Duke for making up his personal version of my father's doings while believing in a no less biased version that stems from my father's lifelong friend?" The Prince had no idea where that thought had come from. But somewhere inside him a nagging feeling was very persistent. The feeling that not everything Yvain had shown him was a lie. And he was very much convinced that this particular judgement was his own, not his uncle's.

His suspicions grew when Merlin took immediate offence at the implications of this question. "Gaius wouldn't lie to me, not even for your father's sake!" The warlock's face was strained with anger and insult.

"I never said that Gaius lied to you. I said that he would naturally be biased. He is King Uther's friend. He always has been."

"But he wouldn't have kept it from me if your father really were the villain Yvain accuses him to be." Merlin didn't want to give up without a fight.

"So you should know whether it is true that Gaius stood by when my father had the Blessed Isle destroyed? Even the young acolytes were killed, male and female, burned alive, at King Uther's orders. Only his relatives were spared! If you were a Pendragon you could go free albeit it had been his own family that had caused the whole mess! True enough, my uncle taking his whole order with him to Tintagel and overthrowing the garrison here had not been part of Uther's plans, but even so he made a truce with his brother while all the others, _all the others_, lay dead!"

Merlin felt the confidence Gaius' tale had given him dwindle. He didn't understand a word of this, let alone the volcanic eruption itself. "What are you talking about? I've never heard anything of these things, not from Gaius, not from anybody."

"But I did" Arthur said, his voice being somewhere on its way from anger to sadness. "And long before I was brought here."

He combed all ten fingers through his hair before he sat down, cross-legged, at Merlin's side. "I didn't understand it at the time, but one day, I must have been six years old, my father and his knights came back from the battlefield and everything was different than it had been before. They had been victorious, everybody said so, but nobody was happy, let alone triumphant. Instead the commanders and my father quarrelled all the time. I was in the habit of hiding somewhere near the council chambers at that time, I heard them shout and yell at each other. Later most of his commanders resigned their commission and asked for their leave. They went away with their knights and soldiers and their families and I never saw them again. Only Margath and a few others stayed with us, but they were changed. You see, they had always been...kind to me, playing with me or making fun with me, at least as long as my father wasn't around to see it. But now they padded around, looking shy and furtive, like kicked dogs.

The King didn't want to see me; he denied access to his quarters to everyone. So I went to Gaius and found him packing. He was upset, I mean _really_ upset. When I came to him I thought he'd be crying, he definitely looked like it. Suddenly my father stormed in, pushing me aside. They started yelling at each other and I didn't understand what they were talking about. When my father left he saw me there. He looked at me as if he'd never seen me before. Finally he shouted 'take that child away'. As if I didn't have a name.

Gaius came and took me by the hand. "Leave the boy alone" he said or something like that and my father replied "If it weren't for him, nothing of this damned mess would have happened. If it weren't for him, Gorlois would still be alive. For the Gods' sake, _Igraine_ would still be alive!"

Gaius said "not again, Uther. Please. Not again."

My father got mad. "Don't you dare telling me what I can do and what not" he cried and Gaius yelled back "Damn it, if you could spare your murderous brother you will for fuck's sake spare your innocent son! If you ever go for the boy like that again you will regret it, even if it is the last thing I'll ever do!"

"You're imagining this, aren't you?" Merlin smiled disbelievingly. "Or maybe it's a leftover from Yvain's attack."

Arthur rose and started an angry pacing "No, it's not. It happened!"

"Come on, now. It's not a very probable story, even you must admit that! You didn't have a clue that your father has a brother until you came here."

"Merlin, I'm telling you, it happened. I'm neither imagining it nor am I completely deranged by what my uncle did. I had completely forgotten the whole incident until now. But the battlefield they came back from must have been the massacre on the Blessed Isle. And if it hadn't been exactly the disgraceful affair Yvain told me it was then why should Uther's men have left him? Why all the quarrelling? Why should even Gaius have wished to leave if not for this precise reason?"

By now the warlock was really scared by his friend's strange behaviour. It couldn't be that Yvain had been successful where Morgause had failed? Surely Arthur hadn't begun to _hate_ the King? "But your father loves you, he'd do anything for you" he said helplessly. "He's doing it right now, remember?"

"For love or for guilt?" Arthur shot back mercilessly.

"Who gives a damn?" Merlin yelled and finally his protectiveness of his old mentor got the better of him. "If any of this were true, Gaius would never have forgiven him, not for such atrocities!"

"My dear Merlin, Gaius forgave my father's indifference when Aredian put him first through the wringer and finally to the pyre. He would forgive him anything!"

As the warlock kept silent after this Arthur turned and found him staring down at his lap, angrily tugging at the blanket's tassels. The Prince's heart went out to him. Instead of finding the desired clarity he had only forced his own confusion and awkwardness upon his friend. He decided to drop the subject, once and for all. Like it or not, he had no other chance but to face Yvain over this – and eventually his father. _If_ he ever got the chance to see his father again, that was.

In this very moment Arthur's homesickness and misery became overwhelming. Gods, what he would give for a way out of here. Out of this room, of this godforsaken stronghold, away from these people...

Briskly he walked back to the divan, grabbed Merlin from behind and roughly rubbed his knuckles over the other man's head.

"Ouch!" Merlin yelped. "What did you do that for?" He struggled to break free from Arthur's grip.

"That was for almost making me forget what I really wanted to talk to you about. Speaking of Aredian..."

"Oh no" Merlin said while he backed away from him, waving his hands in firm resistance. "Enough talking for one day."

"We agreed to talk about your magic, remember?" Arthur said while he followed his servant as if he were hunting him down.

"We didn't agree on anything, Sire, you just ordered me about, as usual!"

"And am I not entitled to do so?"

"Only to a certain point!"

"What makes you believe that?"

"If you had any common decency at all, you'd know that I am right!"

"C'm on Merlin, you put the toad in his mouth, didn't you? As much as you stuffed all these bracelets into his sideboard!"

"I had to save Gaius, in case you have forgotten. And he _did_ sell the belladonna to get his 'witnesses'!"

By now they had almost made their away around the room, with Merlin backing off and Arthur following him in mock pursuit.

"But to make him spit out a _toad_!" Arthur stopped and fought against the broad grin that split his face against his will.

"It was ugly, wasn't it?" Merlin said while his own face showed the goofy smile that was his speciality. "_Real_ ugly!"

"You bet it was! I think I'll never forget his face when he looked at it!" The Prince finally lost his fight and laughed wholeheartedly.

"Arthur?" Merlin said, suddenly all seriousness.

"What is it?"

"I've never thanked you, I mean, _really_ thanked you for letting me see Gaius back then. If it hadn't been for you breaking the law, Gaius would be dead by now. As would I be; most probably."

"Well, it's a bit late for that, but anyway: You're welcome!"

As trustingly as he had always been Merlin trotted a bit nearer. "Things haven't ….changed for us...for _you _I mean because I am a warlock, have they?" he asked.

With an effort Arthur avoided rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "As long as you are wearing these damned bracelets, you aren't a sorcerer. So I suggest we concentrate on getting you safely out of them and worry about everything else later."

"But I..."

However in this moment the great bell of the castle stroke the time and Arthur flinched. "Merlin, get lost. To the other room, see to it that you make yourself invisible. The lesser they see of you the better!"

"What..."

"You've been unconscious ever since you first came here. You can't know it, but my beloved uncle has made it a habit to have me around whenever he has a chance. It's like a hobby."

"Have you around? Like what?"

"Like one of his pet dogs I assume! Or maybe someone told him that my father preferably socialises with me over a well filled plate, I don't know! Now make yourself scarce, you should still be in bed any road."

Indeed they had only a few minutes left before the guards came for Arthur. Mindful of his friend's wishes Merlin kept out of sight. Anger rose in him when Arthur followed the soldiers without any word or sign of resistance.

The moment the door was shut he started to work at the things that restrained his magic. It was obvious that Arthur was on the edge, that Yvain had him near breaking point. They had to get out of here, and fast.

It took only four minutes and as many attempts to rekindle his magic before the restraints brought him to his knees, whimpering with pain. Another attempt knocked him out cold for a few minutes. When he came to and the tremors finally stopped he knew one thing for certain. The role of the magical rescuer would go to the understudy this time. The first cast was seriously indisposed.

A soon as he could he crawled on the bed. There was nothing for it. He would have to wait for Arthur's return. Like a child he kicked his foot at the sheets in anger He _detested_ waiting. And behind locked doors, with nothing to do! Really, this was horrible! A small, vicious voice began to mock him. Imagine how this would feel after a whole week! Or after six months!

Facing his captor across the length of the splendidly furnished breakfast room his royal friend could have told him and it wouldn't have made a comfortable tale.

"Your Grace!"

"Come over here!" As soon as the young man reached him Yvain continued "We've got news from Camelot! It's not quite what we expected, I fear."

Arthur's mouth went dry. "What happened?"

"As promised your father informed his council of Endred's survival and of his intention to name him his heir. As I understand it, things deteriorated from there and the meeting became somewhat... heated. Let's just say that apparently Camelot's notables were not as convinced as we had hoped that one Pendragon is as good as another. They absolutely, categorically refused. Against all odds and probabilities they had secretly agreed on one from their own ranks to become Crown Prince. It seems they had become somewhat impatient with your father's stalling."

Yvain cocked a brow when Arthur snorted disdainfully at this but he let it go.

"Apparently your father stated that he would make the public proclamations on Endred's and Lordegrade's behalf anyway" the Duke continued "and that he _would_ receive his eldest son in Camelot and the notables be damned. It goes without saying that he must have thought only of you in this moment, or he wouldn't have committed political suicide that easily."

Horribly ashamed of his former disgracing thoughts about his father the Prince stared silently out of the window into the pouring rain that lashed the windowpanes.

"The council – and I didn't know this to be possible – passed a bill that forbade Endred's and Lordegrade's from entering Camelot's territory as well as any state acts on their behalf. Especially any declarations suitable to slander your mother's memory. Seems as if Gaius was perfectly right. Not Uther's son but _Igraine's_ child is the heir to Camelot's throne."

"Or was" the Prince stated flatly what was obvious to him.

"Not quite" Yvain said drily. "Your father threatened them with military force and ordered their arrest. They began to shout something about their own forces and about civil war."

Arthur closed his eyes. "Gods, no" he murmured.

"Belay that my boy. Our mutual acquaintance Geoffrey chose this exact moment to inform the council, as well as the knights and soldiers present, about your survival, the fact that you are my hostage and that your father was acting under duress."

When Arthur stared at him, dumbfounded, he grinned sarcastically. "Who would have thought it possible, eh? I have reason to believe that your father had nothing to do with that. Apparently your old friend Gaius had found it necessary to inform Uther's secretary of the circumstances in advance. Forced to choose between your safety and Camelot's welfare, as he saw it, he ditched you."

"I don't believe that for a second" Arthur thought "How come you know all these details?" he asked bluntly. "Or are you speculating?"

"Not in the least" Yvain said with a derisive smile. "I had a first-hand report only last night. My friend's' messenger killed at least three horses to bring me the news and still he needed some magical support!"

"You have an _informer_ in my father's council?" The Prince just couldn't believe it. The council members were hand-picked, they all were close to Uther, to him; they had been trusted friends and allies ever since he could remember...

"For more than twenty years. Didn't you think it likely?"

"Would you tell me his name?"

"Most definitely not!" Yvaine laughed. "Besides, we are straying from our subject. To make a long story short, the council ordered your father's temporary suspension – what strange laws you have over there! - and decided to press for your immediate release, under threat of outright war. Doubtlessly the official herald is already on his way."

"This would mean that my father is under honourable arrest until I'm either freed or proven dead." Arthur swallowed hard to hide his joy. Maddox would have no chance of coming anywhere near his intended victim, with or without a 'bargain'.

"You do not seem very surprised by this unlikely chain of events!"

"It wasn't _unlikely_ from the start" Arthur said scornfully. "It was rather foreseeable for everyone who knows the ways of Camelot."

"For someone like you?" Yvain said silkily. "What does your foresight tell you about your own fate now?" He grabbed a handful of Arthur's hair and pulled softly. "Your friends may have thought they could take me by surprise, that I would let down my guard, rely on your father's promises. Under normal circumstances any message from Camelot would need three weeks. Under normal circumstances you are much too valuable a hostage to be harmed. But these aren't exactly normal circumstances!"

"What are you going to do then?" Not for the life of his Arthur would have admitted that, although he felt almost hilarious with relief that his father and Camelot were safe, he was by now genuinely scared for his friend and for himself.

"I'd say it's time for plan b" Yvain said. "Tintagel could last for years under siege but my own barons will forsake me at the first sight of Camelot's troops. Whether I killed you or kept you, finally I would fall into their hands or die myself and I will not grant my brother this satisfaction. However, I promised your father that he would never see you again when this went wrong and I intend to keep my word. I am going to leave Albion altogether and you are coming with me. Let him wonder for the rest of his life what has become of you."

"Where are you taking me?" Arthur asked hoarsely.

"You'll see soon enough. The ship's going an hour from now. Just enough time to tell your little sorcerer friend that he's in for the journey of a life-time!"

Yvain let go of Arthur's head and saw the change in his captive's face. He straightened his shoulders. "Don't even think it, Arthur. You know what it would cost you. _And _your friend, remember?"

"Can't you just leave him behind? Let my people find him and bring him home. He has nothing to do with all this. Please!"

"What are his chances if your people find out what he really is? You said it yourself; your father would kill him immediately if he found out about Merlin's magic. As he killed all these innocent people on the Blessed Isle."

"Your men _eavesdropped _on us?" The Prince almost retched for the sour taste that formed in his throat. This conversation hadn't been meant for anybody else.

"No they didn't. _I_ did. I wanted to know where we stand with each other, you and I. Tell me, Arthur, if Uther's men were to find your 'servant' here, with you and me gone and the boy without a visible scar, what would Merlin's chances of survival be?"

"Then let him go now, let him run while he still has a chance. Please, I promise I'll do anything you want."

"Anything? That's a very tempting offer, indeed!"

"Then why not take it while it stands?"

"Very well. No more escape attempts, no more going against me, neither to my face nor behind my back. If you give me your word on that I'm willing to release him here and now. _With_ the bracelets on his wrists of course."

"No! You will take the damn things off or I'll..."

"Or you'll what? Watch me hang him from the highest wall, as a welcoming present for his friend Gaius?" Yvain shook his head. "Be reasonable, Arthur. He ran after you once; given the slightest chance he'll do it again. If you want him to be safe you of all people cannot want me to give his magic back to him! It's either that or he accompanies us. You choose!"

Arthur bit his lip, frantically racking his brain for a reason beyond argument for Merlin's complete release but found none. "All right" he finally said. "We have a bargain. Can I go now?"

"Suit yourself. I'll send Maddox over to you. He can escort your friend out of Tintagel. We wouldn't want him to run into the seals again, would we!"

The moment he said it the solution hit Arthur in the face. "No, of course not Your Grace" he said softly, with as much submission as he thought was believable. But somehow this wasn't quiet enough. "Thank you, uncle" he added and made haste to leave the room.

The very second the soldier closed the door bolts Arthur shot through the room. "Merlin, where are you?"

"I'm here" came a miserable voice from one of the darker corners. "You said I should get lost any time someone entered!"

"Yes, right, but we don't have time for that now. Listen to me, you are to leave Tintagel; Maddox will escort you out and..."

"What? Who's Maddox?"

"The man who brought you here. The so called messenger. He'll escort you out. You are to do exactly as he says but you will stay in the vicinity of Tintagel until my father's troops arrive."

"Your father's troops?"

"Yes, Merlin, these soldiers with the nice red banners with the even nicer golden dragon, for heavens sake, man, don't play daft with me now. As soon as Camelot's men enter Tintagel they must find you as a victim of the magic seals. Otherwise you'll never have a chance to go back to Camelot safely, do you understand?"

"Nope! Beats me, all of it!"

Arthur inhaled deeply to calm himself as best he could. Once, twice. "The Duke is going to _run_, with his tail between his legs. He's willing to release you, but if our men should find you here, bright eyed and bushy tailed, with these magical looking things on your arms, this release would be the death of you, don't you see that?"

"Yes" Merlin said while the beginning of understanding dawned on him. "But why can't you simply tell everyone that I'm not in liege with Yvain's men?"

"Because I'm not going with you. Now tell me, do you think you could survive another encounter with these damned seals or not? For if you can, you could tell everybody that the two of us ran into their barrier, that we both were knocked out and that Yvain took me with him but left you behind. You could even tell them that these damned things around your wrists have something to do with the seals. The story would cover you!"

Merlin thought of his last experience with the seals' onslaught and shivered. "Naturally I could stand it, easily, but why can't I come with you? Surely, as long as we're together chances are much better to..."

"Damn you, don't you ever listen to me? I've told you before, you're only making things worse for me! I want you back home, and safely so, now please promise me to do as I say. If my father ever learns what you are, you're dead. And Gaius too. _Promise _me, Merlin, please!"

"But where are you going?"

"My Lord Duke is going to have a prolonged seaside vacation. I have no idea where he's going and I have no chance to prevent him from dragging me after him! Now, promise me!"

Maddox was already halfway through the door when Merlin finally nodded.


	13. Rifts in all the harmful places

**13. Rifts in all the harmful places**

"Sire!" The knight bowed to his King most deferentially. One never knew with Uther these days.

"Sir Leon! I didn't even know you'd returned yet!"

Leon heard the unspoken question and he knew it wasn't a friendly one. "Forgive me, Sire. I only just arrived and naturally my first way was to you to report back."

"You've taken your time. Nevertheless, welcome back. You're dismissed!"

Leon swallowed nervously. "But Sire, there's something you ought to know before it is too late…"

"What is it? Spit it out, man! I do not have all day."

"The report Lord Borowyn gave to you…it's not true, Sire. At least not all of it."

Uther turned away from the window from where he had been overlooking the yard in which the scaffold was under construction. "And which parts of it aren't true, in your most competent opinion?"

Just to be at least somewhat nearer to the safe side, Leon bowed again. "Sire, I've heard that Lord Borowyn accused Merlin of treason and of practising sorcery. Is that so?"

"It may have escaped your attention, Sir Leon but we are constructing the scaffold for the boy's execution in this very moment. Does that answer your question?"

"But Sire, I've spoken to Gaius and Geoffrey and from what they told me I'm sure that….."

Uther darted around as if he had been bitten by a poisonous snake. "You've been absent Sir Leon, so I will forgive you trespassing just this once!" he hissed. "Gaius and Geoffrey are both lucky to have escaped with their lives when I got the message that my son has been killed by his captors. After tomorrow, they're both banned from Court and country for life. From now on I'll have everyone who as much as mentions their names severely punished, is that clear? And don't think that your knighthood would save you from the whipping pole!"

"But Sire, that's exactly the point I'm trying to make. Borowyn lied through his teeth, right into your face!"

"Guards!" Uther shouted but Leon's "for all we know Prince Arthur could still be alive!" drowned him out effectively.

Uther's raised arm fell uselessly to his hip. All blood drained from his face. "What did you say?" he whispered hoarsely.

"It was Merlin, Sire. He's seen the Prince; the Duke forced your son to board the ship that brought him away from Tintagel. I found Merlin still by the quayside, famished and with some bad bruises. By no way he was 'unharmed and free' when we found him, like Lord Borowyn wanted you to believe. Seems as if the boy had been working in a dirty dockside pub, hoping to find an opportunity to board another ship. But nobody had wanted to have him, with the bracelets around his wrists showing that he had once been the Duke's property."

"Lord Borowyn said the bracelets indicate that the boy's a sorcerer in Yvain's service! Always has been."

"Then the Lord of Tintagel employs a lot of sorcerers among his servants" Leon replied with as much sarcasm as he dared. "I've seen more than one person with similar looking things around their wrists. The townsfolk think the bracelets indicate that the person is a prisoner or a forced labourer, someone the Duke has singled out for punishment."

"And you say that Merlin actually watched my son boarding that ship?"

"That's what he's told me and he's never lied to me before!" Leon gulped down a sigh of relief for having come that far without being thrown in the dungeons. "Sire, I have no idea why Lord Borowyn should have told you with such firmness that the Prince is dead but if the Duke should have wanted to ….punish you by killing him, why didn't we find a body? Merlin's story is just more believable!"

"Why was nothing of this in your reports to me?"

"I had no chance to send you any reports; Lord Borowyn insisted that, as he heads the Crown Council, all reports from Tintagel should go over his desk. He also ordered me to stay behind with the occupying forces in Tintagel, countermanding your explicit orders that I was to come back as soon as possible!"

Uther's face changed. His jaws tensed visibly and through the ghastly paleness of his features two hot red spots began to build on his cheeks. "Did our Council's Chairman know that he defied my orders to you?"

"Yes, Sire. I told him so. Repeatedly." Leon swallowed again. "I… I thought about it a great deal but then I decided that I had sworn my allegiance to you, My Lord, not to your Council whether you were suspended or not."

Leon virtually saw Uther pull himself together. "Send Geoffrey to me, at once. Tell him to meet me by the entrance to the dungeons' stairway."

"Your Grace!" When Leon bowed his way out of the throne room his heart was much lighter than it had been when he had bowed his way in. Briskly he walked down the corridor. After the second turn he bumped into Gaius and Geoffrey who had been waiting eagerly for his return. "How did it go?" Geoffrey asked in an urgent whisper. "Did he believe you?"

"Eventually he did" Leon said. "He wants to meet with you, Master Geoffrey, by the dungeons' entrance. Immediately!"

"Thank heaven" the old secretary murmured. "I had begun to fear that all reason had left him when our beloved Chairman informed him of Prince Arthur's death!"

"Your insistent distrust of Lord Borowyn must have had a greater impact on the King than you yourself noticed" Leon said. "As for me, if it hadn't been for your warnings before we left for Tintagel I'd never even thought of defying the man, let alone accuse him before the King!"

"So for all your better knowledge of how you found Merlin, for all you knowing that he is Arthur's close friend you would not have lifted your backside on a horse for his sake alone?" The first words Gaius spoke to the knight since Leon's return were so full of an aggressive bitterness that both men winced at it.

"Why…no….I didn't say that" Leon stammered aghast.

"No, you didn't" Gaius snorted. "And by your own words you wouldn't have said much else to anyone even if you had seen my boy burn tomorrow!"

Geoffrey sadly looked down for a moment before he pointed at Gaius with his eyes. Leon understood the silent message: Take care of him for me, will you? The knight was all willing to do just that, but of how to do it, he had no idea.

"Well, I must be off" the secretary said. "No use to let the King wait. He may still change his mind!" and he shuffled away towards the dungeons.

Once arrived there he found an already impatient Uther. "There you are. About time! Let's go!" and Geoffrey found it wise not to mention that by all accounts he was a sentenced man; a man banished from Camelot for life.

It took the old man quite an effort to follow the agile King to the dungeons. When they arrived at the last cell door in the row Geoffrey was virtually puffing. Uther dismissed the guards with an impatient nod of his head and opened the door himself.

Inside the dank cell the old man needed some time to adjust to the dim light that filtered through the single window. Other than the secretary Uther had spotted his prey immediately.

Merlin lay curled up in a corner and didn't stir, not even when Uther took his shoulder and shook it. The young man just curled up even tighter after a moment. Sighing, Uther grabbed the nearby water jug and without any further ado emptied it over the warlock's face, making sure that as much water as possible hit the nose.

Spatting and coughing the prisoner bolted up until he sat on his backside. "Now, would you grace your King with a bit of attention or do I have to call for more water?"

Merlin looked up at him, his expression shy and defiant at the same time, a peculiar mixture. It made him look vulnerable and obstinate alike.

"As you were not willing to defend yourself at the trial someone else has taken on the trouble" Uther said flatly. "Sir Leon told me that you've seen my son alive. That Arthur boarded a ship together with Duke Yvain. Is that true?"

It took some time but finally Merlin nodded furtively. "Yes" he said, almost inaudibly. "They forced him, though. Even from a distance I could see that they had bound his hands. Two soldiers held him. He didn't go willingly!"

Uther frowned. "Naturally he was forced. But why didn't you say this at the trial?"

Merlin looked at his feet and shrugged dismissively. "You wouldn't have believed me anyway!"

"Well, I'm all willing to believe you now."

"Above the word of _Lord_ Borowyn?" Merlin said defiantly. "I don't think so!"

Uther inhaled deeply to prevent himself from any rash reaction. As a father he knew these sulking moods too well to try and yell some sense into the boy right now.

"Merlin, it's not for you to judge what I do or don't believe" he said sternly. "Now would you tell me how and where my men found you in Tintagel? The truth, please!"

For the first time the warlock's eyes wandered past the King and spotted Geoffrey who smiled encouragingly. "Please, my boy" the secretary said kindly. "For Prince Arthur's sake." And for Gaius' sake he thought but he didn't say it.

Merlin rubbed his nose and sniffed softly. "It was in this tavern where I worked as a dogsbody" he said with audible reluctance. "I had hoped to find a ship or at least someone who'd know where Yvain's ships had been headed but they didn't want me! They didn't even talk to me unless they had to! They fear your brother like hell, even when he's absent. They thought the bracelets bear his curse. That the things make me a Jonas."

"A what?" Geoffrey asked.

"A harbourer of bad luck for a ship" Uther said absently. "It's a common superstition among sailors!"

"But I still don't get it. How did you come to Tintagel in the first place? And come to think about it" the King frowned angrily with a side look at Geoffrey. "How do _you _know that Yvain is my brother?"

Merlin smelled a rat, remembering the day he had been eavesdropping in the throne room. "By the time I found him the Duke had already told Arthur everything!" he stated. There. This wasn't a lie. No harm in _not_ telling that he had been informed by Gaius in advance.

Uther rose to his feet abruptly and turned away, face to the wall. Apparently this piece of news wasn't exactly welcome.

The young wizard twisted nervously then got to his feet too. "I'm telling the truth" he said obstinately. "Arthur told me that he would have to go with the Duke. He said his uncle would have a 'prolonged seaside vacation' and that he had no chance but to go with him. He didn't know where the Duke was going, though."

The whole conversation became more and more enigmatic to Geoffrey by the minute. "Prince Arthur told you? You _spoke_ with him?"

Merlin sighed. "Yes. I was in his quarters. He was with me when I regained consciousness, after I had been caught in the magic seals. Obviously they…." He bit his lip and looked down again.

"They what?" Uther asked sharply while Geoffrey looked from one to the other, more confused than ever.

"They used me to keep him in check" Merlin said softly. "He said I had made things much worse for him." His eyes wide and pleading without him even knowing it, he looked at the King's hard face. "I…I thought I'd still do some good but we only had the one night before Yvain decided to run. At least that's what Arthur called it. He said that at the news that Camelot would send in troops 'the Duke was going to run, with his tail between his legs'.

"My son _knew_ that I had been overruled by the Council and that Camelot would send in troops?"

Merlin shrugged again. "Apparently he did. I was released all of a sudden. I pretended to run away from Tintagel as fast as possible but I hid in the harbour and I saw the Duke force Arthur to board the ship and they cast off. All on the same day, eight days after the messenger and I had arrived at Tintagel!"

"Merlin, let me get that straight" Uther said. "You followed the messenger all the way to the stronghold? How long did it take?"

"Three weeks!"

"And eight days later Yvain knew that I had failed him and that Camelot would send in troops?"

The warlock nodded while Geoffrey looked as if he finally saw daylight. "But Your Majesty assembled the Council only 18 days after the messenger had left. There wasn't enough time for your brother…"

"..to learn of our military preparations before he took my son and made his escape!" Uther finished the secretary's sentence. "There is only one possible explanation. There is a traitor in my own Council. He must have found a way to inform Yvain of what had happened here within less than 12 days, long before our preparations would have given anything away to a normal observer."

"I do not have to tell Your Majesty who this traitor might most likely be" Geoffrey stated resolutely. "And why he should have an interest in getting rid of young Merlin here. He must have known from Leon's embezzled reports that Merlin had seen your son alive. If for some still unknown reason Borowyn wanted you to believe that Arthur is dead it would have made perfect sense to delay Leon in Tintagel until you had executed the boy. On his own accord Sir Leon would never have mentioned it, not _after _the execution! He would have thought you had had reason to believe that Merlin had lied!"

"There is nothing 'unknown' to Borowyn's reasons" Uther hissed through clenched teeth. "The Council clerk came to me this morning. The Council most humbly beseeches me to finally name an heir to the Crown, now that Arthur's death can no longer be doubted. They have chosen a candidate. Lord Borowyn's son. Myrion."

Uther turned his head to the ceiling. "Dear Gods, he planned it well. With you and Gaius neutralized, Arthur presumed dead and the only witness executed it would have been a piece of cake to make the Council virtually force me to name Myrion. His mother was Igraine's cousin."

The King gritted his teeth, his surroundings and his audience completely forgotten. "The damned bastard has betrayed me _and _Yvain to put his imbecile of a son on the throne. His castle was the last Arthur visited. He must have informed the mercenaries of where and how to capture my son. He informed Yvain that his plans had failed after he himself had led the Council's opposition against me."

"But your brother didn't oblige" Merlin said softly. "Arthur isn't dead!"

"I wouldn't have thought it possible" Uther murmured to himself. "I would have sworn Yvain would..." he broke off and rubbed his eyes with two fingers. "Merlin, show me these bracelets" he said sharply, reaching for the warlock's arms.

Reflexively Merlin hid his wrists behind his back.

"Oh, damn your stupidity" the King said and pulled the young man's arms forward again. The engraved runes and seals shimmered in the dim light. "I have been blind!" Uther said flatly. "Dear Gods, that I should have been fooled by the bastard _that_ easily!"

"Geoffrey, look at the things" he exclaimed, louder now. "The Duke's seals on them, Your Majesty, that's what Borowyn said. The _Duke's_ seals my foot! These _are_ my brother's seals, all right, his seals from the _Blessed Isle_, the signs that indicate his rank as a master sorcerer! They've always been much more important to Yvain than his Pendragon seals but they are secret, known only to his family or his close friends! How would my Council's Chairman know them to be Yvain's if he hadn't been in close contact with him before?"

"What are you going to do, Sire?" Geoffrey asked wearily. "You can hardly confront Borowyn openly, with the Council being able to go against you again at the slightest provocation. Nor can you accuse the Lord openly of treason with a few symbols that indicate your brother's magical abilities as your only proof!" With his guts twisting the secretary waited for his King to come to the obvious conclusions all by himself.

"No, of course I can't" Uther muttered angrily. "But I can refuse to name Myrion as my heir, based on _Leon's_ intelligence that my son has been seen alive. The Council's decision might have caused his death, by a hair's breadth it didn't come to that. Borowyn will be hard put to persuade them again to endanger Arthur's safety, law or no law!"

"This is a great idea, Your Majesty, if I may say so!" With an effort Geoffrey abstained from mopping the sweat off his brow. It had been a close call.

"The only thing is: How do we rid ourselves of our young friend here?" Uther mused. "Without an execution, Borowyn will smell the rat too early!" Impulsively he squatted down at the wizard's side. "There's nothing for it, Merlin, you have to die tonight" he said. "Otherwise we'll never get you outside the castle without anyone being the wiser!"

Only the next day, when the young warlock joined Gaius and Geoffrey on the driver's seat of their cart it became obvious that not all of the King's recent ideas were rubbish. At last this one, to tell everyone that Merlin had committed suicide in his cell and that Gaius would take the body with him, had worked a treat.

Slowly they sauntered across the land until they reached Ealdor where an exhausted and still somewhat stupefied warlock decided to forget about things for a while and threw himself into the arms of his mother.

Naturally they couldn't stay in Merlin's home village. Uther had made that very clear. The four of them travelled on together, to reach the border regions of King Olaf's realms where they would wait for further notice from Camelot. At least that was the plan. But that didn't mean that they had to be happy with the situation.

It took only a few days before Merlin became restless. There was no peace, not for him, not from him. "For the Gods' sake, sit down" Gaius finally yelled one evening, when the young man's continuous pacing and fretting about each and every thing drove even Hunith mad. Geoffrey cast one look at his old friend and the young ward, took Hunith by the hand and made haste to give the two men some room to argue out what ailed them both, once and for all – or so he hoped.

Neither wizard nor physician took any heed of the two of them leaving. "Merlin, I understand that you are worried, we all are" Gaius made the first move. "But we can't go on like this!"

"I shouldn't have allowed you all to persuade me" Merlin replied. "I should have gone back to Tintagel, tried to find a ship."

"What for? You've tried that before and it was no use! You're much safer here!"

"But I don't _want_ to be safe!" Merlin shouted it at the top of his lungs. "I didn't ask for anyone to keep me safe! I'm not a child! If that was what you ditched Arthur for I curse you for it, you and Geoffrey!"

"Who said anything about ditching Arthur?" Gaius' face was white now, ghostly pale.

"Don't play games with me, I learned on the journey back to Camelot that it had been you and Geoffrey who spilled the beans that Arthur was kept prisoner in Tintagel, although you knew that it could have been the death of him."

"That's not true Merlin..." Gaius tried to explain but it was no good.

Even more furious because of the tears of rage he couldn't suppress Merlin almost snarled. "Don't lie to me, Gaius. _You_ told Uther that he had no choice but to yield to Yvain's demands, that he had to fulfil them to the letter to save Arthur's life and then you and Geoffrey spoilt it all by telling the Council everything!" The young man panted heavily by now. "If it wasn't to get me back from Tintagel, why should you have done it?"

"It had nothing whatsoever to do with you, you insolent brat!" Gaius too was now beside himself with anger. "I informed Geoffrey because I knew I could trust him and he decided to keep the information as a last resort. He spilled the beans only after the Council had overruled the King. How were we to know that the deluded idiots would press for war?"

"But you were already suspicious of Borowyn. You must have known the risk you took!"

"Merlin, Arthur is the only heir the Council would ever unanimously accept. We thought that they would do everything to keep him safe. If they had accepted Endred 'pro forma' we could have negotiated with Yvain behind the scenes. We reckoned that negotiations with the Council would make Yvain more careful, once he had got from Uther what he had wanted above anything."

"Maybe he has" Merlin said desperately. "Maybe you all have. Yvain has kept his brother's most prized possession; you and Geoffrey saved the neck of your precious King! There's only one looser in this game and he's the only one who has nothing to do with the whole damned mess!"

"So you really think I saved _my_ pet Pendragon at the expense of _yours_!" Gaius' voice had never been that cold before. But then he had never been insulted like that before. At least by a young man he loved as he would have loved his own son.

"Yes, that's what I think!" Merlin already fought to keep up his rage but not for the life of his he wanted to let go of it. Right now it seemed to be his only source of strength.

"And you're sure this is about me and Uther" the physician said. "You're sure this isn't about you and _your_ guilty conscience!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You've made it an issue that Arthur was forced to board that ship when you spoke to Uther but it isn't true. He went willingly, didn't he? The only force he was under was an agreement he had consented to, an agreement with his uncle on _your_ behalf, that's what you really think, isn't it? The great warlock to the rescue but this time it just didn't work! And now you're tormenting yourself day and night with speculations of what else he might have agreed to."

Merlin found he had nothing to say to that. It was no use to try and hold on to his rage. It had already faltered.

"So that's why you didn't defend yourself in this mock trial" Gaius stated. "You thought you deserve to die."

"But don't you see it? I _did_ fail him. I failed him in the forest when they first took him and I allowed myself to be captured like a bloody fool in Tintagel. I'm good for nothing, exactly as he always said I was! All this great talk of our glorious destiny has come to nothing. He knew his father's troops to be only weeks away and yet he would have to go with these bastards, no matter what! Some protector I am, am I not?" Once he started laughing derisively he found that he couldn't stop. It was like a cramp that shook him to the bones.

"Merlin, stop that! Stop the hysterics!" Desperate at the sight of his shaking ward Gaius slapped the magician's face with some power and it brought the young man back to his senses.

"They have robbed me of my magic and without it what am I, Gaius?" the warlock whispered miserably. "What am I? A useless, clumsy idiot. A good for nothing monster without its monstrosity!"

"Come here by me, you monster" Gaius said while he pulled his ward into a bear hug. "If it's any use to you, when Uther signed your death warrant, I thought of killing him with my bare hands."

"And why is this meant to console me?" Merlin's muffled voice from somewhere in the physician's robe forced the ghost of a smile to Gaius' face. "Because it reminded me that I want Uther's son back almost as urgently as you do!"

'And I am sick of worrying myself to death about both of you for something Uther did' he added silently, only to himself.

"But we'll need support to get him back, all the help and resources only Camelot can provide" Gaius said aloud. "And we will need time to think of something to get these accursed bracelets off your wrists. You can't do this on your own. Not this time. We have to wait until we hear from Uther."

Merlin nodded miserably and it occurred to Gaius, and not for the first time, that his ward by his very nature wasn't an altogether patient person.

However, this time Merlin had to learn some patience, like it or not. They finally reached their destination and put up house there, under false names and false pretences. With Gaius working as a physician, Geoffrey as a scriptor and Hunith tending to the house, the magician without magic felt utterly useless and idiotic. For the first time in his life Arthur's kind, warm-hearted and always good-spirited friend and servant was bad company for everybody, especially for himself.

Gaius and Geoffrey, even Hunith blessed the day that brought Sir Leon and the news that Borowyn had been arrested. They were officially called back to Camelot. Apparently there had been a ceremony the day it had been a year since Arthur's abduction and Borowyn had pressed too hard for Uther to give up the search for his son. Although he had had a firm stand on Camelot's succession act, the Council had not followed him a second time. The rift had sufficed for Uther to gain the Council's consent to persecute the former Chairman.

Merlin rejoiced with the others although he didn't exactly know why. After all they hadn't come closer to finding the lost Prince. But everything was preferable to this horrible, useless waiting and for some mysterious reason returning to Camelot seemed to be something like a fresh start.

The young warlock's joy lasted until a blindingly hot pain shot through his head and he began to scream while his world went dark.


	14. Stolen soul

**A/N:** I've never been to Marseille; all my wisdom about it's ancient form in the 5th century stems from Wikipedia. Therefore, should anybody find my descriptions are at fault, I'd be glad to hear of it.

R&R please!

**14. Stolen soul**

Arthur unwittingly gritted his teeth when he recognized the voice in the corridor. Barkas again. The damned brute's dirty laughter was unmistakable. Why Duke Yvain, usually so meticulously conscious of showing off his education and refinery, insisted on having this primitive, barbaric bastard at the head of his personal guard was beyond the Prince but even so...

Another burst of derisive, abusive laughter drifted into the room and it became clear that Barkas wasn't alone out there. At least one other man was with him. With an impatient sigh, Arthur closed the book he had held in his hands and concentrated on the coming and going on Massilia's quayside.

Seen from the big windows of the Duke's magnificent residence the merchant city's harbour spread out like a panorama, from the old jetties to the somewhat newer Christian monastery of St. Victor at the harbour's south end. The water glittered seductively in the sun and the busy loading of seagoing vessels was hardly suited to calm someone who wished nothing more than to leave the beautiful house for good.

Arthur let his head fall against the window frame when a passing Prelate from one of the city's bigger Christian churches reminded him of tonight's dinner. Yvain had planned it as a welcome gesture for St. Victor's new abbot. The Duke had widespread business connections with the religious groups and he groomed and entertained those connections most carefully. If the house and its furnishings were something of a give-away, he was most successful. Of late he had developed a tendency to show his latest acquisition around in those circles. As nobody knew that Arthur hadn't exactly volunteered for the position of Yvain's ward, people were most impressed with the Duke's family sense and warm affection for his young nephew. The unexpected show of kindness and emotionality had done wonders for the Duke's reputation, especially in the families who had an unmarried daughter to offer.

At the thought of tonight's inevitable pretence the familiar bitterness rose in Arthur's throat. His initial hope that by this roaming in Massilia's social circles word of his whereabouts might get back to Albion, eventually to Camelot, had long been proved to be a chimaera. There _were_ ships which went back to Londinium or even further north or west of Albion but they would do him any good only if he were aboard them and Yvain had taken the utmost care to ensure that this would never be the case.

Which reminded the young captive of the detested soldier who still amused himself with something – or rather someone – in the corridor outside. The Prince really was hacked off by the breeze the man was kicking up. He slid off the window sill, planning to go to the library to find some peace before Yvain's inevitable order to join him for this vexed dinner would end his illusion of independence. Arthur had made up his mind to make the best of the few hours Yvain spent outside the mansion today and he was determined to do so.

If only the Christian notables knew their most admired friend for what he really was, they wouldn't be so eager to consort with him. For all the Prince knew they detested sorcerers – and members of old heathen religious cults at that – even more than King Uther did.

With his mind fighting to stay away from hurtful subjects like 'Camelot' or 'father', Arthur opened the door and tried to walk by the two guard soldiers without catching their attention. At least that was the plan until he saw the young servant woman the two were rough-handling. With her dress being torn, her skirts lifted and her hands tied the intentions of the two men were obvious enough. As was the rag they had stuffed into her mouth, which explained why she hadn't been heard so far.

Apparently Arthur hadn't been the only one who had planned on having a mouse's dance on the table while the ducal cat treated itself to an outing.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The Prince's sharp voice stopped the two soldiers in the middle of what to them doubtlessly was no more than a practical joke. Servants didn't score high in Yvain's household after all.

"Having a little fun on a boring afternoon, with Your Highness' permission of course" Barkas said derisively. "She won't mind, she's used to it!"

As if she wanted to prove him wrong the girl started to struggle frantically in the other man's hold.

"Let her go" Arthur demanded. "If my uncle hears of this..."

"He's going to tell you that you have no right whatsoever to order me about." Barkas' grin was perfectly beastly. "You better be on your way before I teach you a lesson you won't forget!"

"I said, let her _go!"_

Now the fun on Barkas' face was gone. He didn't take well to being ordered about at all and most definitely not by someone he considered a hapless prisoner without any rights.

"Listen to me, princeling" he gnarled. "In case all this dilly-dally with His Grace has given you a wrong idea of who's in charge here - I can easily remind you!"

"Then go ahead and try!"

"Barkas, let off" the other soldier said. He released the young woman who ran away immediately as fast as she possibly could. "Let's go and find someone who's a bit more willing to have some fun, aye? There's nothing in this but trouble! Barkas!" Hesitatingly the second soldier looked at his confederate for a moment. Then he bowed furtively and allusively to the general direction of where the Prince stood and made haste to get away.

Barkas didn't even hear him. His attention was solely focussed on the man who had dared to challenge him. With calculated tardiness he drew his blade, making sure that the sun gleamed on the sharp edge.

Arthur almost snorted with disdain. Dear Gods, the idiot wouldn't last a day in Camelot's training ground or barracks. Just look at the way he held this blade. Really, Yvain had no clue of how to properly staff his guard. Every untrained idiot could take this sword away with a simple trick.

The Prince feigned an attack with his right fist, just what Barkas had expected him to do. Without thinking the soldier directed his first sword blow at the attacking arm, completely oblivious of the fact that his opponent had two hands at his disposal.

"How lucky you were that I've always been tied when you handled me!" Arthur thought when his left hand caught the wrist of Barkas' sword arm and twisted it violently.

With a surprised yelp the soldier let go of his blade and turned, instinctively trying to save his wrist from being broken. With a short laugh Arthur kicked at the unbalanced man's feet and made him stumble.

The polished marble floor was unbelievably slippery. Yvain liked it that way. It looked very shiny and impressive and it showed off the marble's exquisite quality and colour. The Duke himself was, after all, as sure-footed as a mountain goat. As was his nephew. Barkas, unfortunately, was not. Especially not when the three ales he had gulped down for lunch caught up with him.

Unable to regain his balance the soldier slipped and fell with another yelp. He tried to stop his fall with his right hand but the injured wrist gave way and his chest crashed to the floor, burying his left hand underneath the rib cage.

"That should have left the bastard with some very bruised ribs" Arthur thought. "He'll have to do without the girls for a few days I shouldn't wonder."

With his arms folded before his chest the Prince leaned against the corridor wall and waited for his opponent to get up.

It took a moment before he noticed the blood that streamed from somewhere underneath Barkas' unmoving body. He went down to his knees at the man's side, turned him over and recoiled with a jerk at the sight of the knife in the soldier's left hand. It was buried in the man's heart up to the hilt. The head of Yvain's guard had been killed instantaneously the second he had hit the floor.

This was one victory Arthur could have done without. He alerted the first guard he could find and watched the body being taken away with a more than just queasy feeling in his guts. The Duke most surely wouldn't like this very much.

The second he met with Yvain at the entrance to the large state room he knew that his apprehension had been justified. If it hadn't been for the most jovial abbot and his retainers the Duke would have made his point then and there. As it was they both dragged themselves through the evening as best they could until it was finally time to see the Duke's guests off.

Immediately afterwards Yvain retired to his study and his nephew didn't wait for the order to follow him. Things wouldn't get better by a delay.

"If you were the insolent child one could take you for by your behaviour, I could simply slap your face and be done with it, but unfortunately that's not an option with you!"

Arthur faced the older man's cold wrath with all the calm he could muster. He knew he couldn't do anything, neither to avoid nor to influence the verdict. So best get it over with as soon as possible. "What other option did you choose?" he asked simply.

"You may remember that you struck a bargain with me. You gave me your word that you wouldn't go against me. I thought that I could trust your word but obviously I was mistaken!"

This, for all of Arthur's better wisdom, hit a nerve in the young captive. "No, you were not! You can't tell me you concur with what Barkas was about to do..."

"The girl is not the issue here!" Yvain stated flatly. "You knew my orders. You are to obey my guards in everything and most surely you are not to fight them with a weapon in your hand, let alone kill them! Did I or did I not make that abundantly clear to you?"

"Yes, you did!"

"So you do not deny that you went against my explicit orders when you confronted Barkas?"

What was to be said to that? It was an accident? What about the wretched girl? Nothing of it would interest the Duke in the least. Especially not the fact that the girl had had dark skin and large, dark eyes. That she had resembled another woman, a woman he missed with all his heart... Don't think about her. If you start thinking you won't survive.

"No, Your Grace, I don't deny it!"

"But you would do it again, if the circumstances called for it in your opinion!" Yvain stated a fact, he didn't ask a question.

"Yes, I would!" Arthur met the angry gaze steadily. No use denying the obvious.

Yvain took a deep breath and straightened his back. "I know you don't like your life here much. You feel caged, albeit I allowed you to move freely inside the mansion. You don't like my friends, you don't like accompanying me. You don't even like talking to me. Maybe it's time to teach you some appreciation for the leniency I've shown to you."

He rang for the guards. "Take him down."

Down in the house's vast cellars Yvain watched sternly while the soldiers executed his orders. They chained Arthur's hands behind his back, cuffed his ankles and chained them to the wall before they finally shoved a gag into his mouth and secured it tightly with a rope.

"You will untie him for one hour in the morning and one hour in the evening only; he is to be restrained like that at all other times, including the gag, is that understood?"

"Yes Your Grace but..."

"If you feel you're not up to the task of guarding him I can arrange some more befitting tasks for you!"

The soldier faltered immediately. "There's no need for that, My Lord!"

"We shall see how long it takes before you beg me to trust your former word again!"

Arthur didn't react to Yvain's parting words. Frankly, he wasn't much scared. Nobody in his right mind would think a prisoner could hold out long under such conditions and if the Duke had wanted to seriously harm him, there would have been much easier ways.

It took the captive three days of increasing pain and anxiety before he realized that his uncle quite obviously had meant every single word he'd said. Apparently "easy" wasn't part of the Duke's logic in this. He had virtually buried his captive alive.

Bit by bit Arthur's muscles and joints stiffened until the time he could spent without the restraints was almost as torturing as the endless hours he was forced to sit tight and wait. Just wait. Silent and alone. His lips were cracked and he was always thirsty, no matter how much water he gulped down while he had the chance.

Worse than every physical torment was the inability to escape from his thoughts. He would have given anything for a distraction, no matter what, but there was none. Silent walls. Nothing else. Only his memories, his senseless longing to be somewhere else. To see his friends again, to live again. To be FREE again!. Until he couldn't stand it any more.

The next time the jailer tried to refasten the manacles Arthur fought back with all the insensible courage despair can give. Naturally it didn't help at all. The state he was in, even the old soldier alone could most probably have beaten the living daylights out of him, let alone the three men who ran to the jailer's aid.

At the time they had him chained down again the fight had left Arthur for good, leaving emptiness and numbness behind. "Don't worry, we won't tell anyone about this little wrestling match, me and the boys. It'd only make things much worse for you an' us I reckon!" the old soldier said while he fastened the gag behind the captive's neck once more. The only reaction he got was a shuddering breath that sounded almost like a sob.

But it wasn't over yet. After a while the former frenzy came back to the prisoner and he fought uselessly against his restraints until his much abused muscles abandoned him.

Half an hour later the Duke got a message he had long been waiting for. From his book keeping he turned to his friend. "I think this is it, Maelfwyn. Seems as if he had had enough!"

"I don't think so. Even if he should crack now, he'll recover. He'll always try to fight you any way he can, openly or covertly. You'll never be able to trust him, you'll never be able to turn your back on him."

"There's a remedy for that" Yvain said casually, already on his way out. "Should he fake his submission again, I'll just be forced to take appropriate actions!"

Maelfwyn grabbed his Lord's arm and jerked him around. "This is madness, Yvain. It's against every law of nature _and_ of magic."

Pendragon's eyes narrowed. "Let go of me" he whispered silkily. "Or you'll see what this insolence can cost you!"

"Forgive me Your Eminence" Maelfwyn sidestepped a useless argument. But he did not give up his actual point. "But Arthur isn't meant for you. He never was. He's not meant for you as your other half. We've seen whose destiny that is and it wasn't you!"

"Superstitions nonsense! After all these years, you still can't see that magic is a tool, an instrument to be yielded to a purpose, not a supernatural godly power! Have you made all the necessary arrangements?"

"Yes, I have" Maelfwyn said exasperatedly. "The ship is ready to cast off at a moment's notice. But that doesn't mean that I condone your plans!"

"Why should you?" the Duke asked casually. "I do not need your consent to execute them."

"Damn it, Yvain, Arthur isn't your child and he never will be, however much you wish him to be the son my sister lost after Endred's death!"

It was in this very moment that Maelfwyn felt his throat constrict. Speechless he stared at Pendragon's merciless smile. Yvain cocked a brow at the helplessly panting man. "I've told you before, I do not need your consent for this. Please do not make me believe that I don't need you at all, my old friend."

Maelfwyn watched him vanish in the stairwell's entrance with tears of humiliation and hurt in his eyes. But for all his mortification, after a minute or two he followed his master nevertheless. As he had always done.

"Take off the gag and leave us" the Duke demanded, once he had entered the cell and he didn't have to say it twice. "I take it you see reason now?" Yvain asked his nephew in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Go away, please" Arthur whispered huskily. "There's nothing more to be said."

Roughly Yvain took the young man's chin and forced him to face the older man. "Do you want to tell me that you are willing to go on like this?"

"You didn't care what I want before. No need to start caring now. Nothing of this was my choosing, yet you did it anyway!"

"Arthur, this is intolerable!"

The Prince looked at his uncle's enraged face. "Yes, it is!" he simply stated. "And now leave me alone."

"You'll never give in, will you?" Yvain said sadly. "You're like your father. Uther has never met a Christian in his life and yet their saying that the devil chose ruling in hell above serving in heaven could have been made for him!"

"This isn't between you and your brother any more. Leave him out of this."

Yvain fondled the young man's hair fleetingly. "You're right" he said. "In future neither I nor you will have any reason to bother ourselves with Uther Pendragon."

The instant Yvain's hand covered his mouth and jerked his head back Arthur knew what was afoot. Helplessly he strained against his bonds while the sorcerer's other hand found the sensitive spots in his neck. The blinding onslaught of the wizard's invasive magical energy paralysed him soon enough.

Maelfwyn watched the whole procedure from the door with a sinking heart. He heard the young man's muffled yelps of pain and then his whimpering before Arthur lost consciousness altogether. He saw the Duke's contorted face, the sweat that ran from his brow like water and he knew, this didn't go too well. For all these long years they had been together he hadn't come across a spell or magical action that had taken a toll on Yvain Pendragon. Everything had been swift, effortless, elegant. Always. Until now.

It seemed as if the great master sorcerer for once had overrated himself. For a fleeting second Maelfwyn was sure that Arthur would just die without feeling it and the thought made Yvain's friend almost hilarious.

However, when the Duke finally stumbled to his feet, Arthur's chest still heaved and fell, the pulse in his throat was still visible, albeit a bit slower than it had been before.

"You remember what you have to tell him when he comes to?" Yvain asked while he tiredly wept the sweat from his face. "Dear Gods, I'm too old for such stunts" he murmured to himself.

"We both know that Uther's son will never regain consciousness after this!"

"I've asked you a question, damn you!"

"Yes, I know what I will have to say" Maelfwyn replied angrily.

"Then see to it that he's brought aboard. I'll follow you as soon as I am finished here."

Hundreds of miles away another, a much younger warlock's magic ran wild. Scorching his surroundings blindly, lashing out at each and every thing, barely sparing the terrified people who surrounded him. With only a small part of his mind Gaius was relieved that Geoffrey and Leon had been knocked out by the first hit. There would be time to get things straight with them later. If there was a 'later'.

With Hunith hanging on his arm, desperately begging him to do something, Gaius just watched her son scream and twist in agony. The old physician's eyes widened uncomprehendingly when he saw the silver bracelets on Merlin's wrists burst and crumbled to dust.

The healer was still frozen in place when Hunith sank down at Merlin's side and took her desperately sobbing son into her arms.


	15. A walking shadow

**15. A walking shadow gone amiss  
**

Leon staggered to his feet while his hands searched tentatively for his head. It came as something of a surprise to him that the damned thing was neither quadratic nor swollen to at least four times its normal size. "My goodness" he whispered very softly, as not to disturb the presently somewhat sensitive organ, "what on earth was that?"

With his eyes narrowed to mere slits he looked around and found himself in an unfamiliar cottage or something of the kind. "Hello?" he said somewhat louder and took a vow of perpetual silence immediately afterwards.

"Oh dear" Hunith appeared in the door frame. "You _do_ look horrible!"

The helpless expression in the knight's face found her always ready sympathy. "Wait a moment" she said. "I call for Gaius" and she did, loud and clear and unfortunately very much within Sir Leon's earshot. Groaning he sank down to the cot he had been resting on earlier.

When the healer arrived the knight had recovered sufficiently to repeat his earlier question. "What happened?"

"Oh, our great master sorcerer Merlin found his bracelets somewhat uncomfortable and got rid of them. Unfortunately the spell he used was the tiniest bit too powerful. He's crestfallen that he should have disturbed your contemplations." Gaius said merrily. "Any other questions?"

Leon sat tight for a very long moment while the healer examined his head and the tensed muscles in the younger man's shoulders.

"You are jesting, of course" the knight finally said.

"Far be it from me to contradict the adornment of Camelot's knighthood!"

"Gaius, what's the matter with you" Leon said angrily. "It's not like you to talk such stupid nonsense!"

The healer gave a fine show of remorseful sobering. "Forgive me, Sir Leon, it's just that I am so happy that Merlin wasn't hurt when the bracelets burst."

"You're sure he wasn't hurt?" Leon was all worry for the servant boy who wasn't even his and the physician's heart felt warmer for the sight. With his remark Sir Leon had definitely won back some of the healer's former affection for him. "As I remember it the boy screamed his head off" the knight continued.

"Yes, you were absolutely right when you called the damned things a curse" Gaius replied. "Now drink this! It'll make you feel much better."

Without a second thought Leon gulped down the potion the older man had handed him, his thoughts still focussed on what had happened. "What do you mean, 'a curse'?

Gaius sighed impatiently. "As I said, you told Uther the things were cursed and they were. I do not know what exactly Yvain wanted to achieve by forcing the bracelets on Merlin's wrists but they finally went off. It was extremely painful, but he wasn't really hurt, the Gods be praised."

"Maybe they were meant to harm someone in Camelot and something went wrong" the knight mused.

"You know, that's a very clever idea" the healer said. "I'd never thought of that! Now excuse me, I have to look after Geoffrey."

"How is he?" Leon asked worriedly.

"Pretty much like you" was the reply. "You know, given the fact that these bracelets were meant as an assassination attempt, you both have been extremely lucky."

"Yes, we were, weren't we?" the head knight smiled, for in this moment he felt that the potion had indeed rid him of his headache and the nausea. "Carry on, Gaius!" Leon had only just remembered that he was supposed to be in charge here.

"Very well, Sir" Gaius said with a respectful bow and left the room. Hunith was waiting for him outside, her face as white as chalk. "Please tell me that he didn't realize what he has seen" she whispered urgently.

"He has not!" the healer calmed her. "Like the warrior he is, he has found an explanation of his own, one that befits his definition of Yvain as an enemy of Camelot!"

"Oh thank Gods" Hunith whispered. "I thought this had been it."

"Where's Merlin?" the healer asked softly.

"Where you left him. In his room!"

Indeed the healer found his ward where and how he had left him half an hour earlier. "Merlin" he said cautiously "are you awake, my boy?" while he felt for the warlock's temperature.

"Yes. Go away!"

"I can't, Merlin. You could still be hurt without even knowing it. And it's imperative that you tell me what has really happened to you."

"I don't know myself. Leave me alone!"

"It was Arthur, wasn't it? Something happened to him! What was it?"

"I _said_, leave me _alone_!"

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me, I am not your servant and you are not the Prince of Camelot!" By now Gaius was genuinely angry.

"Don't you get it?" Merlin said loudly. "Maybe there is no Prince of Camelot any more!"

"You mean you saw him die?" the healer said aghast. In his mind the thoughts tumbled over each other. Gods, no. Not after all this time,not after Yvain let him live even after Uther had failed. Why, for heaven's sake, why kill the lad _now_?

"I don't know" Merlin repeated wearily. "Ever since he were abducted I have tried to localize him or at least _sense_ him. But I stood no chance. First my concussion was in the way, then these bloody seals fought me off. When they had left Tintagel, I must have been hampered by the bracelets." He brushed his hair out of his face and Gaius saw that his hands were trembling. With the dark rings under his eyes and the strained lines around his mouth his ward was a pitiful sight indeed.

"But last night, all of a sudden...it was as if I heard him scream my name. Something was happening to him, something terrible. He tried to fight but he couldn't move. It felt as if I...as if _he_ were strangled, something pressed down on his mouth, he couldn't breathe and it...it hurt so much."

Merlin had no idea that his own breathing had become hasty and shallow again, much to the healer's grievance, but Gaius knew better than to interrupt him now. "I tried to help him, tried to fight but the damn things wouldn't let me. I tried harder and harder until the blockade was...broken, somehow. But it was no use. Suddenly Arthur was just...gone!"

"Dead, you mean?"

"Gaius I'm telling you, I don't know for sure. It feels...different than before. He seems to have...faded. So very far away, Yvain has somehow taken him away. Away from _me, _from all of us, even from Uther."

"Pray, Merlin, do you mean that geographically or are you talking about your magical senses?" Geoffrey said somewhere in Gaius' back and the healer's blood ran suddenly cold.

He winced when his old friend's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. "I wonder, Gaius, did you ever think of telling me what the boy really is?" the secretary asked.

"Geoffrey, please" the healer stammered. "I beg of you, if anybody were to know..."

The other man's face fell and he took a sharp breath. "I don't deserve that from you" he said. "Almost 40 years since we first met, 40 years of friendship and trust in the service to the Pendragons, first Athalf, then Uther, now Arthur and you really think I'd turn your boy in for Uther's stupid, selfish, idiotic laws?"

Without waiting for an answer he turned to the warlock. "Merlin, I do not have to tell you that this is very important. Did your ….impression or whatever it was you had give you any clue, any at all, of Prince Arthur's whereabouts?"

"No" Merlin said., "I saw nothing and he told me nothing. He didn't think at all, he just tried to fight but couldn't and then it was all over."

"Then we will keep all of this to ourselves" Geoffrey decided resolutely. "No use troubling the King further with wild speculations, especially not if these speculations involve a certain servant boy having magic."

He turned to leave but Gaius stopped him. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to tell our knightly friend what orders he has to give and as always I'll have to make him believe that they were his idea in the first place. Now give me some peace, I have to concentrate. And this headache your young friend gave me doesn't exactly help matters!"

Only in the very last moment Geoffrey heard Gaius' quiet 'thank you'.

Finally they decided to wait another day before they made their way back to Camelot. They all could use some rest. Besides, their young knightly commander _thought_ he needed some time to think while the other three _knew_ they had some urgent thinking to do.

Hunith had no time to think; one look at the menfolk and she knew who'd have to care for the provisions and the organisation of the journey.

When they reached Ealdor once more and Merlin said good bye to his mother she could not miss the relief he felt and it hurt. It hurt incredibly to see him fidget with impatience to leave his home village, to leave _her_, to finally go back to a Court where he was nothing but a clumsy servant for most people and to a King who would kill him without remorse should he ever find him out. Naturally the reason for this was obvious enough – its name was Arthur! For a fleeting instant she felt something like jealous malice against the Prince but she fought it down.

She could have saved herself the trouble, though. Merlin didn't see it anyway. His thoughts were already far ahead. In Camelot.

However, one thing troubled the young warlock. Something which didn't quite fit in with what he had heard so far. "Gaius, you never said anything about Geoffrey being from Tintagel, too" he said one evening, when the secretary had already gone to sleep.

He healer shrugged. "Geoffrey had accompanied Gorlois to Camelot on Uther's request. He loves to stay in the background, behind the scene. He makes himself scarce on the open stage of events, but Uther listens to him more than he himself knows. Geoffrey has been a close friend over all these years. I told you, if it hadn't been me who went to Tintagel to see the Prince, it would have been him."

Merlin was quiet after that and Gaius thought he had dozed off. But that was not the case. "What is it with the Pendragons that they can make friends like that?" the warlock asked musingly. "You and Geoffrey...so often Uther has treated you worse than his dogs, and yet..."

Somehow, inexplicably, Gaius found himself in the defensive. "And what about you and Uther's son?" he asked. "You used to rattle on and on about him mistreating you, denying you the appreciation you deserve. What about that?"

"He doesn't mean it!" Merlin said defiantly.

"Oh, doesn't he indeed" Gaius replied sarcastically. "Pray, what makes you so sure that Uther means every word he says?"

"The fact that he left you to Aredian's claws" Merlin stated in a most matter-of-fact tone of voice.

His chagrin making it impossible to stay still the healer rose to his feet. "You do not know what Arthur would do if he ever found out about your magic!" He said it and he regretted it in the same moment. What an incredibly mean thing to say under the circumstances. Besides, where did this urge to defend the _father_ come from? Didn't he wish to have the _son_ back at any cost, just like Merlin did?

His ward's reply, however, hit him like a blow in the guts. "Arthur _has_ found out about my magic and he didn't give a damn!"

Gaius felt his cheeks grow hot with a rage that stemmed exclusively from jealousy. It mortified him, but he couldn't help himself. "So you've been wiser in the choice of your friends than I have been, is that it?" he pressed out through gritted teeth. "If you're so sure I have no pride, no self-respect, why trouble your august self with me and my old-fashioned belief in loyalty?"

"That's not what I said..." an aghast Merlin tried to redeem himself, but in vain.

"Oh, go to hell" Gaius said miserably and made his way to the nearby tree line, leaving his crestfallen ward behind. Once the healer had left the clearing where they had made camp he drew a few deep breaths to calm himself but the cramp in his stomach had no intention of leaving him.

He had no idea how long he had been standing there, as much at variance with himself as he was with the world, when a tentative paw gently tapped his shoulder from behind. "Gaius?"

No response, just an angry frown, barely visible in the darkness.

"Gaius, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that I thought...I mean...I had somehow hoped you'd be happy for me, I mean, one Pendragon less to worry about if it comes to my magic, right? Besides..."

"Besides what" the healer snapped.

"Besides, it's not quite true that Arthur gave a damn, I mean, he accepted it in the end but until then...he had a hard time swallowing it."

"But he gave himself up to Yvain nevertheless, didn't he" the physician said and all his anger, all his jealousy and spite left him and made room for a heartbreaking sadness. "Arthur gave himself up – for you, his friend."

Gaius turned and looked at Merlin's anxious face. "And don't tell me that he had nothing left to give up to the bloody bastard. We both know that to Arthur Pendragon it made a world of difference whether he went aboard the ship as tame as a lamb or fighting every step of the way, even with his hands bound behind his back."

"You think so too" Merlin whispered after a long silence. "You think that I failed him. That I am undeserving of his sacrifice!"

"No, you stupid boy, that's certainly _not_ what I am thinking. Arthur is perfectly capable to decide who is worthy of his friendship and who isn't. Neither you nor he would ever give allegiance to someone undeserving. But for us mere mortals, things aren't always that simple!"

The young warlock shook his head in dismay. "I do not understand one word you're saying!"

"There's no reason for you to understand it. You're young and I am talking about old men, old grudges and old dreams that went sour a long time ago but I didn't have the courage to cast them aside because I had build my whole life around them!"

"Gaius..."

"Please my boy, leave me alone for a while, will you? I'm sorry for yelling at you."

With a heart full of doubts Merlin nodded furtively and turned away from his guardian.

Gaius watched him trod away with his head and shoulders slumped and couldn't stand it. "Merlin?" he called.

"What?"

Well, then the boy had every right to be grouchy by now.

"I only wanted to say that I _am_ happy for you. For you both!"

"Hrrmph!"

And for long hours this snort was the last thing Gaius heard from the young warlock.

The old healer finally sat down right there beneath the trees and his thoughts began to wander. The ways they took had been forbidden territory for many a year. His hopes, his expectations. A young, enthusiastic Prince, in Tintagel, in Camelot, and all the sparkling dreams of a glorious future. Of justice, peace and prosperity. Done in his twenties, a beautiful, doting Queen by his side and the world at his feet. How on earth had it been possible that it all had come to this?

Was there a special twist in the road where they had all taken the wrong turn or had it been a daily business? One compromise too many. Acceptance where they should have been resistance, obedience where there should have been refusal. How many pyres had he watched burning, how many scaffolds being build, how many executions of people he had known to be innocent of evil? How had it been possible that he had lost _count_?

If it hadn't been for this idiotic forced marriage of Uther and Lordegrade, if it hadn't been for Yvain's betrayal, if it hadn't been for Igraine's death..."

Yes. Igraine's death! Why hadn't he said anything? "Uther, it will kill her! Nimueh might be able to cure her barrenness but not her inner injuries!" Why hadn't he said it? Why on earth hadn't he at least _tried_?

Because he had wanted to believe what his King had wanted to believe with all his heart. Uther had decided where Gaius had mused, Uther had chosen one side while Gaius had been carefully weighing both sides. Uther had lived while Gaius had watched life passing by. And Uther had killed. Killed and betrayed and banned and wronged and Gaius had still been watching.

Watching and waiting. Waiting for the miraculous day when future would correct the past and presence all on its own, without him or anyone doing something. The day Uther's war against magic would end and the madness would leave him, just like that. But the day never came. So what's the problem! Arthur will be grown soon enough and there will be the day of his coronation and then all injustices and wrongs of the past will be forgotten.

But the promising, beautiful, warm-hearted child had grown into a bully under Uther's careful guidance and Gaius had told himself that it would pass, that these were childish whims and again he had done nothing. Uther had told him never again to take the boy in his arms and he had complied. The King had ordered that Arthur should be punished when he cried because of an injury and his Court Physician had obliged. He had watched Uther trying his best to ruin Arthur's qualities and he hadn't even said one word against it.

At least not until Arthur had found his other half. Gaius had been _that_ relieved that somebody else had come to correct the wrongs Uther had done to his son that he had actually enjoyed guiding Merlin through it. After all, giving sage advice and pieces of his wisdom in secret saved him from the trouble of confronting Uther openly.

That was at the core of it. Had it been Uther who was throwing knifes at the hapless servant boy with the wooden target and had Gaius been the one who happened to come along he would have sagely and sadly shaken his head. Nothing else. It had needed a Merlin and an Arthur to form a friendship based on a wrestling match between a Prince and a servant boy.

With more honesty than he had ever dared before Gaius pondered the question whether his life long habit of putting his friendship to Uther Pendragon before each and everyone had been an act of cowardice and complacency.

Gaius had given in to Aredian as easily as he had and he had forgiven Uther for abandoning him because he had silently felt it was very befitting that he should be burned on the pyre. But it had been complacency again. For Merlin and Morgana he would die. For once he would not stand by idly while other men or women, human beings he cared about died a horrible death in the flames that stemmed directly from _Uther's_ private inner hell. A short time of pain and anguish and all would finally be over.

And of course, Uther was in for a surprise, he'd miss his old friend terribly, he'd be lost without him, he would - …...

Naturally the King would have done nothing of the kind. He would never have thought of the old Court Physician who had foolishly thought himself to be a friend to a man who _had_ no friends. Only objectives and interests.

Uther had had survived his father's death, Igraine's death, he had sacrificed his closest friend to save his son and now he would survive the loss of this son, too. He would survive anything.

There would be no coronation day that made amends for all the endless days of sorrow. All the waiting and watching had been for nothing in the end.

A walking shadow he had been, a King's shadow and when this King went amiss the shadow also went astray.

In the silence of the night Gaius let go of the illusion that his life had been worth its while. That it had had sense and purpose and dignity. He had gambled it all away on a Prince but it had been a misguided bet. The man had not delivered.

But his son had. Until his father's past had raised its head and smothered all the present promise of a better future.

Now Gaius straigthened his aching back and struggled to his feet.

"Le roi est mort, vive le roi!" as the French said. There still might be another King, one with a warlock by his side who could do more than watch and fret.

Whatever the costs.

Yes!

_Whatever_ the costs.


	16. The world is out of joint

**A/N: I'm sorry, guys but I found out that there is a chronological mistake in this chapter's second half only after I had posted it. Uther's words imply that Aredian arrived in Camelot after Khilgarrah had been defeated, while the series stated that it was the other way round, the episode with Aredian took place some time before Khilgarrah made his attack on Camelot. Therefore: Please find enclosed a corrected version of Chapter 16. **

**16. The w****orld is out of joint**

The rest of the journey to Camelot was uneventful. That is, if one doesn't count the travellers' inner turmoil as an 'event'.

Gaius was very quiet. He was still trying to cope with the unwelcome insights in his own life and loyalties and, frankly, he didn't make much progress. His life long friendship and allegiance to Uther were still strong and they battled his newly won conviction that they had been misplaced with singular ferocity.

Merlin, on the other hand, blamed himself for the old man's miserable state of mind and, as a result, was all misery himself. As he had been before Leon's arrival he was snappy, restless and very sensitive. The knight hardly recognized Arthur's always high spirited servant any more.

All in all Sir Leon had a hard time, indeed a very hard time to keep them all going without biting each others' heads off. Geoffrey still fretted about Gaius hiding something as crucial as Merlin's magic abilities from him. That his old friend should have thought him able to betray the boy to the King nagged away at the secretary and it hurt.

After a while Leon resigned to the dark cloud that loomed over the group all the way back home. To be honest, the young knight had his own set of inner fights to cope with. For not to hear or guess anything of what Merlin really was and could do would have been hard for a man of only rudimentary intelligence and in spite of what the two old scholars generally thought of the warrior nobles of Camelot, Sir Leon had got a more than elementary share of brains.

It was as clear as daylight to him that he'd never turn the young warlock in. The more so since he had eavesdropped, though involuntary, on a part of the conversation between healer and wizard-in-disguise. From this it was obvious that Arthur knew about Merlin's magic and hadn't condemned his friend for it.

Unfortunately to dismiss inconvenient facts so easily was a princely prerogative, not a knightly one and Sir Leon battled badly with his conscience.

A bigger contrast between the gloomy travellers and the splendid reception Uther had prepared for them on their return was hardly imaginable. The King welcomed them in person, surrounded by his Court in the main yard. When this exceptional honour didn't bring a smile to anyone's face – or something else that could make up for the deep frowns of the assembled nobility – the King was deeply disappointed.

However, Uther would not be chagrined by the lukewarm reaction and went on with the program. There was a very nice and warm welcome-back-speech in the hall and fine, sophisticated documents for each and everyone of them, reapplying their former status, enhancing their privileges – at least for Gaius and Geoffrey – all done with the necessary decorum like big seals and a pompous language that was hard to understand.

Applause, congratulations, many forced and some genuine smiles, Guinivere's expectant, radiant face and Merlin's extremely belatedly remembered last-second orders from Arthur to take care of her before the Prince had been forced to leave – and that should have been the end of it.

Or so everybody thought. Until Uther suddenly laid his arm around the young warlock's shoulder – some would swear that a number of the nobles almost retched at the sight – and loudly declared that from now on the young man, until Prince Arthur were to return, would be the King's personal servant and that was that. "As it would be unfair that the boy should lose his position in the royal household because his master has been taken away" or so the King put it.

Merlin stood dumbfounded, as if he had been knocked over the head, and hard. When Gaius and Geoffrey were most graciously dismissed, he just went to follow his mentor. Uther's "don't forget, tomorrow morning eight o'clock sharp" wafted somehow by his ear but it didn't make much sense to him.

Once outside the throne room two arms embraced him enthusiastically from behind. "Oh, it's so good that you're all back" Gwen said with a broad smile.

"Do you think so?" was all Merlin could get out and the joy on her face died away instantly.

"Well, yes. Of course" she said bewildered. "I mean, you're back home and you're not a sorcerer and this awful Borowyn has been arrested and the King seems to think that he may know where Arthur has been taken. I mean, I…."

"What did you say?"

"I said, I'm glad you're back and you're safe now…."

"No, no, no, no, not that, the piece about Borowyn."

"They say he's a traitor and that it was his fault that Arthur has been abducted in the first place."

"And…..? Come one, Gwen you said that Borowyn may even know where Arthur is now?"

"Yes, at least Uther thinks he does."

In this instant she cast down her eyes and her usual rambling and fitting around when talking excitedly was gone. "Don't you think that this is a reason to hope? I mean, that he will still come back to m… I mean to Camelot and all of us?"

Finally, inexcusably late and insufficiently it came to the warlock what she must have gone through in the more than 12 months since the man she loved with all her heart had been stolen away from her. Every single one of Arthur's friends had had someone to confide in, someone to share his anxiety and his anger with. Everyone but her. Except for a few words now and then from Leon she had been all alone with her sorrow and her fear.

"Gwen, I am so sorry" he said and he meant it with all his heart. The way he would have meant it before his friend had been taken while he had been looking for firewood, glad and relieved to be on his own for half an hour. If he hadn't extended this welcome space of privacy, if he had made it back to the camp earlier…..

"I should have come to you at the first opportunity. I promised Arthur to see you, to tell you….."

"Merlin, this _is_ the first opportunity since you came back from Tinti, Tinwa….."

"Tintagel" Merlin stated.

"Yes, from there. Borowyn had arrested you on the journey, remember, I tried to see you but they wouldn't let me. Then you escaped with Gaius and Geoffrey and I…., I really thought I'd lost you too. When the King declared that you had committed suicide in your cell I thought… I really thought…."

By now it was all over for her self-control. Merlin saw the tears well up in her dark eyes and dragged her towards the next door, away from the busy corridors and the many curiously prying eyes that populated them.

Once in the small room, actually not more than a cupboard to stow away food or equipment for events in the throne room, he told her everything Arthur had wanted him to tell her and he answered her many questions as to how he had found their mutual friend, how he had been treated and how he had felt.

It was peculiar though that, while Arthur had had less than thirty seconds to give his love message to his servant, this servant needed the better part of half an hour to pass it on to the eager recipient. But then, it might have been prolonged by Merlin's abundant use of his vivid imagination. Yes, the Prince loved the girl, but to express it like that – Arthur would rather have died.

"It's what he meant" Merlin thought defiantly while he made some sweet words and expressions up for her sake. "It's not Gwen's fault that the royal prat doesn't know how to express himself properly!"

Anyway he had the satisfaction to see the smile coming back to her features the more he talked. When he felt her cheek next to his and the quick brush of her lips against his face, he felt he had made up at least a little for his former negligence of his friend.

She gave him a bear hug as a good bye and whispered "we will bring him back in the end, won't we?" and he said "sure we will. It's as plain as a pikestaff that we will."

"I have to go now" she said, already half way through the door. "My new mistress isn't especially patient. Thank you. It's so great that you are all back."

She was gone before he could ask her who this new mistress might be.

Only on his way to Gaius' quarters it came back to him with a cold jolt that he had a new master, too.

The physician wasn't home when the warlock arrived and he didn't come back before midnight, at which time Merlin was beside himself with worry.

"Where have you been?" he asked anxiously while Gaius sat down heavily on his bed and buried his face in his hands.

"With the King and Geoffrey. We talked about how to proceed with Borowyn."

Merlin swallowed nervously. It was too easy to agitate, even easier to hurt the old man these days. But he had to ask nevertheless. "Why are you so apprehensive about this?"

"Uther is absolutely certain the Baron knows where Arthur has been taken and what Yvain plans to do with him. The King wants to gain this information at any price. In tomorrow's assembly he will ask the Council's permission to have the Baron tortured."

Merlin felt a bit embarrassed. He saw Gaius' unmistakable dismay at the perspective of the traitor being tortured although the healer himself had had a hand in Borowyn's arrest. But as for the warlock himself he was conflicted at best. Surely, he abhorred people being tormented but his memory of how Arthur was escorted to the ship, of his barely hidden fear and despair was still very vivid. If Borowyn should indeed know where to find the hostage…."

"Oh Gods, not again" Gaius murmured to himself, effectively interrupting Merlin's thinking.

"What do you have to do with it?" the warlock asked furtively. No use to provoke another enigmatic blow-up from his mentor.

"Uther won't succeed" Gaius answered flatly. "The Council will never agree and shaken as they may be, Uther's position is not as impregnable as it once was. The Barons and Notables have seen their power and they won't easily forget it. They will never allow that one of their ranks is put to the torture."

The younger man opened his mouth for another question but Gaius continued before Merlin could say anything. "Oh, they want to see Borowyn dead; he fooled them, put them at risk and outsmarted them. And I do believe that they genuinely pity the Prince and want him back. But if Uther tortures Borowyn today he might lash into another Baron next month or next year. They'll never allow it and he can't afford to act without their consent any more."

"But I still don't see why this should bother you that much" Merlin blurted finally out. To hell with patience, he was tired, he was scared and he didn't understand one word of this. Again!

The physician sighed. "You remember what you told me about Yvain using his magic to 'convince' Arthur of his version of the story he's had with his brother Uther?"

The warlock nodded awkwardly. As if he would ever forget that.

"I have searched some of the old books I took with me, as well as my memory. I think I have an idea of what Yvain might have done. You know, if you are a real mind reader, like Gorlois was, you can enter people's minds without them knowing it or feeling it. You can extract or add or even alter memories quite effortlessly if your gift is strong enough and you know how to do it. But for a sorcerer who lacks the gift of a mind reader…."

He wiped his eyes. "If you are reckless enough, if you don't care whether your victim suffers, whether the prisoner will be injured or might even get killed by your tiniest mistake – then you do not need the mind reading gifts, you can do it per magic alone. If you don't care, if you really don't care, you can do almost anything to a human being. You have no idea what magic can be used for. Uther isn't entirely wrong in condemning it."

"I do have some idea" Merlin murmured. "I've read something about these things a while ago and besides…"

"Besides what?" Gaius had raised his head, suddenly all alertness.

"Arthur and I talked all night about what was true and what wasn't but I got the impression that Yvain has succeeded in prejudicing Arthur against his father, and badly so, with the one try he gave it. But what has this to do with Borowyn and you?"

"There is a special potion" Gaius answered warily. "It can increase the effectiveness of magic by making the recipient more receptive, more vulnerable to it. With this potion anyone with only the smallest magical gift could easily extract any intelligence he wanted from a person. Even I could do it."

Merlin grew cold. _**Merlin, have you done anything like that before to anybody**__?_ Arthur's apprehensive voice, showing a hint of the disgust and contempt he would feel if the answer should be "yes". Somewhere in the pit of the warlock's belly a tight, hard and cold knot began to ache.

"But…..what would happen to the man after the information had been extracted?" Merlin asked, already hating the answer he would presumably get.

"He would end up as a drivelling imbecile" Gaius replied bluntly.

Thinking of Borowyn being tied to the rack for what he had done to the Prince and to all of them was one thing. And somehow Merlin couldn't bring himself to really, utterly hate the idea, although he loathed himself for his thoughts. But to think that Gaius, of all men, should administer a treatment that robbed the wretched man of his sanity….._** It's what magicians do, isn't it? Use their powers on other persons to get what they want**__._ With a wilful effort, the warlock silenced his royal friend's acid voice in his head.

"But the King would never ask that of you" he stammered disgustedly. "It would involve you using magic, after all!"

"Uther has done it before, Merlin. So why shouldn't he do it again?"

"But surely you didn't comply with that?" The young wizard felt as if his whole world was crumbling around him.

"I did!" Gaius said authoritatively. "We had reason to believe that one of the servants was in league with the ones who had poisoned Arthur, to force the King to abandon Gorlois. We thought that we might get the antidote from the man, but no matter what we did, he didn't say anything. And time was running out."

"But you said that Gorlois had to die before you got the antidote."

"That's true. We were wrong, you see. I applied the potion and I ransacked the man's brain although he was screaming his head off but I found that he was innocent. He knew nothing of what had happened. Events had overrun him and he had been too scared and too mortified to defend himself. Doesn't that sound a bit familiar to you?"

Merlin chose to ignore the final jibe. "What happened to the poor soul afterwards?"

"Uther paid off his family handsomely to take care of him, but he died in madness three years later."

The warlock needed some time to stomach that. "How could you live with yourself?" he finally muttered. "I'd never thought you could…."

"But let's come back to the case at hand" Gaius interrupted him brusquely. "Your magic abilities are much greater than mine; you wouldn't need the supportive potion. If you were to enter Borowyn's mind with the right spells and enough force, he may even have a chance to make it to his execution alive and with his mind intact."

"I wouldn't….I never….how can you think that of me …." Merlin stammered and had a horrible feeling of déjà vu. How sure he had been of that when he had last spoken to his friend. Sure of himself. And of Gaius.

"Not even for Arthur?"

"Gaius, I'm telling you I wouldn't….."

"You've already seen for yourself what Yvain can do to him but you wouldn't go for Borowyn even for the Prince's sake?"

"Gaius, stop it…."

"You wouldn't forget your precious ideals, not even to get Arthur back? What kind of a friend are you?"

"No, I would not" Merlin yelled, at the end of his tether. "Because he wouldn't want me to. He'd never demand that of me, no matter what!"

"You better wait until Arthur has a son of his own who is lying on his death bed before you make such bold statements" Gaius said quietly. "But you're right of course. I did it once and it proved to be a mistake. I won't do it again. Uther will have to think of something else."

Merlin let go of the breath he had been holding without even knowing it. He tried to smile, but he succeeded only partially. "You wouldn't have told the King about my magic anyway, so what was the use of this?"

"It wouldn't have been necessary to tell Uther anything. We could have acted in secrecy, pretending that some kind of drug I administered finally did the trick. Even if Borowyn was to accuse you again of using magic, who would believe him?"

"You and Geoffrey had it all sorted out in advance" Merlin said. "As a last resort." _Or so I hope _he added silently.

"That's one way to put it" Gaius confirmed. "As soon as Uther had brought the possibility up, Geoffrey began to think it over. But you know he likes to stay in the background, so he left the talking to me."

"The coward" Merlin said spontaneously. "He should have spoken to me himself instead of using you, forcing you to admit these long passed events to me."

"Actually I'm glad I finally told you" the healer replied with a weak smile of his own. "It has been on my conscience for quite some time now. In former times, on the Blessed Isle, it was an issue to teach a young warlock the possible dangers of his magic; to give him the opportunity to learn from his elders' mistakes. I had begun to think I had neglected that part of a warlock's training with you."

"As long as you keep these lessons somewhat scarce I think I can live with them." Merlin embraced his mentor, wishing with all his heart that his next words were the truth. "You're a great man, Gaius. You have no reason to doubt that, ever."

But even while he said it he felt the doubt growing in his own mind and it wasn't a very comfortable feeling. Never before had he wished harder for Uther to find a solution on his own. Something that had nothing to do with him _or_ Gaius. Something absolutely, completely, exclusively non-magical. Just this once.

And the King obliged.

When Merlin reported to duty the next morning – for once in his life 15 minutes early – Uther was in the very best of moods. Patiently he explained to his new servant what was to do to bridle the King up for a Council meeting (to Merlin's dismay he really said 'bridle up').

While he fastened his sword at his side Pendragon uselessly tried to catch Merlin's gaze in the mirror. "I take it Gaius has confided in you about my plans for Lord Borowyn?"

"Yes, Sire!" Merlin said, because "how the hell would you know" didn't seem a very befitting thing to say.

"I shouldn't have troubled him. Tell him I'm really sorry, will you?"

With the son it had been "you can damn well tell him yourself. Serves you right for scaring him like that. And me." But again, this wasn't the Prince but his father. "I sure will, My Lord." Let's stay on the safe side, Merlin, at least on the first day.

"It wasn't necessary after all to use brute force" Uther continued. "I went down to see Borowyn last night and after a while he cooperated most handsomely. It was only a question of finding out what he wanted most."

Merlin frowned and now he met Uther's glittering eyes in the mirror. "What would a condemned man want, Sire?" he asked and finally his natural love for persiflage got the better of him. "A velvet cushion on the scaffold?"

Actually the King laughed at that and shook his head. "I hadn't thought of that. But no, I found an even better bargain. I traded off a son for a son."

"Sire?"

"As it was Borowyn's plan to put his son Myrion on my throne the Council signed two warrants of arrest, for the father and for the son. I told Borowyn that I'd pardon his son. Myrion would not be executed but banned from Camelot to one of his mother's family's foreign estates if Borowyn would give me Arthur's whereabouts. And the old bastard complied."

Merlin's heart missed a beat before it began to beat even faster. Suddenly he remembered something Leon had said when he had arrived at their hiding place. "But I have heard that Myrion was killed when the guards tried to arrest him?"

"Yes, he was" Uther shrugged indifferently. "But fortunately nobody told Borowyn that his son is already dead. I'm pretty sure I can persuade the Council to acknowledge the warrant for his execution today. If I have my way, the man can go to the scaffold with the comforting thought that he has saved his boy's life, even if he doesn't deserve it."

Merlin fought back a feeling of queasiness in his guts. Dear Gods, how casual and indifferently this was said. In his disgust the young warlock completely ignored that he had thought he could live with the old Baron being tied to the rack only yesterday.

The King scrutinized the servant's face in the mirror and frowned. "You look as if you were to throw up for sheer pity with the treacherous bastard. That my days would have been numbered the moment Myrion had been declared Crown Prince you may easily forget but what of his attempt to have _you_ killed? Do you forgive this so easily?"

Before he could prevent it Merlin's head had risen again and his defiant, even enraged eyes met Uther's gaze squarely and held it.

The King smiled. "My signature under your death warrant was merely a formality this time" he said mockingly. "You're a peasant when all is said and done, no matter how close you are to my son. As head of the Council Borowyn could have had you convicted and killed with or without my consent."

"But you did agree and signed the warrant nonetheless." The warlock couldn't help himself.

"If I couldn't hinder things anyway, why not take the opportunity to reconcile myself with the Council?" Uther said and this time he was dead serious. He grabbed Merlin's hand on his shoulder and prevented the younger man from fumbling with the cloak. "Let me tell you something, Merlin. I know my son is more popular than I am. Arthur is warm, he's friendly and he has high ideas. Most probably he will be a much better, much greater King than I have ever been. But he will be _King_, my boy, which means he will have a bunch of nobles to keep in check, he will have friends who will betray him, promises he can't fulfil and hopes which will be disappointed. And it will change him; change him to a point where you don't recognize him any more. He will also put his signature under acts he doesn't condone."

Without a second thought the young warlock faced the King eye to eye. If Uther wanted to talk to him like that, he wouldn't back down. "How would you know what is going to happen in the future? If Arthur and you are as different as you said!"

"I never said we are different. I was a Prince with high ideas once too, you know. Gaius was a young magician. Although a commoner, he was my friend and he was full of high hopes for a glorious future. But he stayed with me when things became bleak and I had to….change my attitude. Question is, will you stay with my son when he meets his own disappointments?"

"If this is so important to you, why didn't _you_ stay true to Gaius when Aredian dug his claws into him?" Merlin felt virtually reckless now. He hadn't started this weird conversation after all.

Nevertheless the wizard swallowed hard when he saw the King actually blush with embarrassment. "You're right" Uther said. "I had no right whatsoever to do this. It was unforgivable of me. If it hadn't been for you and this girl, this ….."

"Her name is Guinivere, Sire!" What was it that Uther wasn't able to remember her name?

"If it hadn't been for the two of you, I had committed the foolery of a lifetime, and surely Gaius had not been the only victim of my foolishness. But tell me was it really necessary to put a _toad _in his mouth?"

"I am a dead man" Merlin thought and absurdly his humour rose at the thought. "I might as well enjoy it."

"Since when have you known that I have magic?" he simply asked.

"Since the day you brought the sword to Camelot that could kill an undead man" Uther replied with the same casualness that was idiotic under the circumstances. "But it was a step-by-step affair really. That you are my son's other half I only gathered much later. Gaius isn't the only one who can do some research in the old archives from time to time, you know. I admit I didn't take the damn creature serious at first but Arthur's recovery from the Questing Beast's bite, his miraculous victory over Cornelius Sigan, a victory he himself couldn't remember - it was all a little bit too good to be true. However, only when you brought Arthur back alive from fighting Khilgarrah, I finally realized who you really are. I wonder, would you ever tell me which one of the Dragon Lords was your father?"

"No" Merlin said. "I don't think so."

"I hadn't really assumed that you would."

"May I ask you something?"

"Go on."

"Why am I still alive?"

"Because my son is still alive when he shouldn't be, considering the odds that stood against him. You can only hope Arthur is more appreciative of you than I have been of Gaius."

"But when Borowyn accused me you signed my death warrant and scheduled my execution, how…"

"You spent too much time with Geoffrey, you are obsessed with documents. Why shouldn't I sign a document to please the Council and then arrange an escape to please myself? I am the King of Camelot. Being a King is sometimes like being a child that's going for some mischief. I can do whatever I want, as long as I am not caught in the act by my elders."

Merlin found that that was the weirdest, most absurd definition of kingship he'd ever heard but at the same time it seemed very ….realistic.

"After all, for all I knew you would run after Arthur all on your own" Uther continued "and bracelets or no bracelets, I dare say you'd found him by sheer tenacity. Where are the things, anyway?"

"Oh, those….I got rid of them eventually."

"Oh did you indeed. Just like that. How very convenient. I am sure my brother wouldn't like to know what you could do provided he has switched off the damned seals for cleaning."

"You knew what these bracelets meant from the start" the wizard said appalled.

"Merlin, I _grew up_ in Tintagel. We were in close contact with the Blessed Isle and we had a Court Sorcerer who sometimes disciplined his trainees. Of course I recognized the damn things; in my childhood I've seen more than one young man or woman crying for being forced to wear them."

"But why didn't you tell Gaius?" Merlin blurted out angrily. "He worried himself almost to death about me in all this time."

"You think I should have told him? I thought he might enjoy fooling me for a change."

"Well, he didn't. And I still can't believe that you were willing to see him burn at Aredian's order."

"He did it for you. His confession, I mean. To distract Aredian away from your track."

Merlin felt as if he would like to strangle the man. "You mean, you would have let Gaius die to spare yourself the inconvenience of publicly keeping _me_ safe from the witch finder's claws?"

"I already said it was unforgivable of me. But at the time I thought it was Gaius' decision to make. And how could I have let you perish? I guess you know the old prophecies about the Pendragons and the ones who are chosen to complete their destinies. The one side of the coin can not survive the other for long."

It was completely lost on Merlin's agitated mind that, if Gaius indeed was Uther's other half, his death would have had repercussion on the King who had convicted him. "But why call in the bloody fanatic in the first place?"

"Because I'd never thought it could have been _you_ who had been foolish enough to perform magic in front of Camelot's half servant staff. And while we are at it, _I_ was foolish enough to believe that Aredian was in it for the truth. I never realized he was in it for the money. Now you better be content, I've never before confessed my foolishness to anyone, not even to my own son! No more buts and ifs, if you please."

By now Merlin's head was spinning wildly and he was at a complete loss of what to say or do.

"What am I to do now?" he asked helplessly.

"Now might be a befitting time to ask me some of the questions which should have been foremost on your mind. Shame on you, discussing with me the higher arithmetic of power and politics without so much as one question on behalf of your master."

"May I ask what Lord Borowyn has said?" Merlin asked obediently and now _his_ cheeks were hot with disgrace. "Where is Art….the Prince, Sire?"

Uther fastened his cloak himself as Merlin's hands still fumbled somewhat uselessly with the last clamp. When he had finished he turned away from the mirror and faced the warlock. "I had thought you would like to know. I think we are going to leave Camelot the day after Borowyn's execution. How would you like to see Massilia?"


	17. Lord of the hills

**A/N: **One reader has bitterly berated me that, in his or her opinion, the story is not following a consequent timeline. I had a hard time to understand what CM meant by this comment, because the story, except the chapters with the background story Gaius tells Merlin, is strictly chronological. The events in one chapter either follow the events of the previous one or they happen at the same time, but in another place.

But finally I gathered, that this chapter might be somewhat confusing for the hurried reader, as I do not mention at which point in time it's taking place. Therefore I think some explanations are in order: The last time we saw Arthur, he was unconscious in Yvain's house in Massilia, after Yvain had once more attacked his mind. Yvain's last order was to bring him aboard another ship, to transport him some place else. This 'some place else' is the stronghold we are in now. The idea was, that it took Maelfwyn and Yvain some time to nurse their prisoner back to his present state of health. The journey from Massilia to Ireland, where we are now, must also have taken some time. All in all the idea was that the events in chapter 16 and the events in chapter 17 happen at the same time, for Uther, Merlin and Gaius in Camelot, for Arthur and Yvain in Ireland. The events in both chapters take place some months after Uther had secretely arranged for Merlin's escape.

I hope that's suitable to describe the timeline. Many thanks to CM for explaining that this was not self-evident to the reader. If you write a story you know when and where you are, but that doesn't always apply to the reader, of course.

**1****7. Lord of the hills**

Arthur felt much better than he had in a long while when he and his men returned from a prolonged hunting trip in the hills which surrounded the stronghold that was their home.

He waved rather enthusiastically at his father who stood in the first floor window. When the older Pendragon did not wave back, Arthur's mood dropped by a few degrees. Taking two steps with one stride the Prince ran upstairs.

As he had already anticipated his father wasn't too glad to see him like that. There must have been some important issue he had overlooked. Again.

"Sorry, father" he said breathlessly "I know I am late for….."

"For the state dinner I am to give as a closure to our negotiations with Lord O'Brian" the older Pendragon said angrily. "_Our_ negotiations my foot, _my_ negotiations I should say, as my son and heir chose to absent himself mysteriously every time our guest dared to show himself. And look at you. Dishevelled, dirty. You look like a savage."

"Forgive me father, I'll make up for it, I promise. There should still be time to wash and change."

"You better keep that promise, my boy, or we'll have another talk about duty and punctuality. Tonight I want you to appease the O'Brians as best you can. You know they have an eye on you for their eldest daughter Brianna and you also know…"

"…that you would very much approve of the match, I know. You told me so before."

For a reason obvious only to Arthur himself the Prince disliked the very idea of marriage, not only to Brianna but to anybody else. However, he didn't want to think of that reason, not even in solitude. It hurt too much.

With a will, he distracted himself from this train of thoughts. He had learned how to do that well enough during his captivity. If you start thinking, you won't survive!

Maybe his aversion to getting married had something to do with having regained his freedom only so recently, after so long an imprisonment and isolation in his captors' hands. However, it would do no good to say anything of this to his father. Especially not now.

"How did the…_your_ negotiations go?" he asked instead and suppressed a sigh of relief when the older man's face lightened up considerably.

"Very satisfying, I must say" Pendragon said, smiling contentedly now. "We solved all our former disagreements on the border between our manors and the O'Brians' estates, we agreed on a sum for the compensation we are to get for giving up our claims to parts of the land and we will meet frequently in future, to avoid other conflicts building themselves up."

"But that's great" Arthur said in genuine joy. "That's much more than you had hoped for." He grinned mischievously. "Good work, My Lord. Well done."

Pendragon softened somewhat at the unmistakable enthusiasm in the younger man's face. He bowed mockingly to the Prince. "Thank you, Sire. Coming from you, this means a lot to me. Off you run now, and make yourself presentable. Brianna is a very sophisticated girl and she wouldn't be impressed by your hunting attire."

Once safely outside, Arthur's face fell. Those accursed headaches. What was it that made him feel as if he was to suffocate every single time he entered the castle? He rarely experienced any pain or discomfort while he was outdoors. Then why would he feel oppressed by these walls? This was his _home_, he had grown up here; these walls should mean nothing but safety and contentedness to him. He sighed angrily and rubbed his annoying forehead with his hand. There was nothing for it. As soon as the dinner was over, he would have to see the physician again.

Unfortunately he'd stand no chance to leave the castle for a while now. Shortly the O'Brians would be joined by another clan from the Northern Hills, and the Lord would support the Pendragons in hammering out a second deal, much like the first one hopefully. This time his father's men would refuse to go against their master's will, no matter what the Prince would say.

Remembering his father's reaction last time the Prince had left the castle alone Arthur grimaced. He certainly could do without a repetition of this particular scene. He hadn't even known that his always regal, sometimes too highly-reserved father could have hysterics like that. Must have had something to do with the older Pendragon's anxiety when his only son had been kidnapped. Apparently the old man had taken it hard.

Arthur's tense face lost something of the strain. He hadn't dared to believe his father _would_ take it that hard until he had had visible proof of the older Pendragon's affection. His father's reaction and first words when he had regained consciousness after he had been injured in the fight that had killed his captors had been….very telling, to say the least.

Unwittingly the young man shrugged while he walked down the corridors to his room. He'd simply have to give his father more time to come down again. As well as he himself needed some more time to recover from his ordeal. _Unmarried_ time, that was. His mood lightened at the thought of the Hamiltons. Their future other guests had only two small sons. With boys of eight and eleven years there couldn't be much trouble.

To his pleasant surprise, Brianna was much more fun than he would have thought. She was witty and kind and amazingly beautiful. With her dark hair and eyes as well as a tinted skin rather uncommon to this part of the land she really looked great. Arthur decided spontaneously to combine business with pleasure and they agreed on going out on horseback the next day together. The Prince could easily see that his father was very pleased. As were the O'Brians.

"That should keep me safe for at least a week!" Arthur thought wearily. Immediately he wondered where this peculiar thought should have come from. To hell with these damned flashbacks he had from his captivity. Faces, voices. They seemed to be so familiar at times. As if he had known them for a very long time and yet he couldn't put a name to any of them. The end was always the same. Excruciating pain, then a blinding light behind his eyes, followed by darkness. If this went on, he'd go mad over time.

With an effort he pulled his attention back to the guests and to the young woman at his side. It took him some moments to drive the worried frown from her face. "Damn, if I look the part of the lunatic by now, I could as well go and hang myself somewhere quiet" he thought.

Somehow the evening came to a most amiable end and Arthur felt as if he had been freed from a life-term as a galley slave.

"You like her. I thought you would when I first laid eyes on her" Pendragon stated, in a very contend and benevolent mood. "Would it be so bad to be her husband?"

"Father, I know you want to have a grandson" Arthur said exasperatedly "and I know you want to have him soon but even you can't expect me to fall head over heels for a woman after a few hours of acquaintance."

The older Pendragon turned and had a closer look at the Prince. "You look horrible" he said. "Are you sure you're well?"

"I'm just tired" Arthur evaded the underlying question. "It's nothing really." In fact, he was so sick of it all, the only thing he really wanted was to hide in his bed and to sleep it all of as best he could.

For once, his sleep was almost undisturbed and the next morning's outing with Brianna was pure pleasure. Only when they returned his old ailments came back to him.

"Do you feel poorly again?" Brianna asked worriedly. "Maybe I shouldn't have kept you. My parents say…."

"What do they say?" he snapped with much more aggression than he would have liked. "That I have come back from captivity as an invalid? A tottering cripple?"

"No, that's not what my father said" she stated drily, effectively letting his anger run past her into nothingness. "He said – and I quote – that from what he has been told about your ordeal and how you survived it you must be the most stubborn, toughest and tenacious rascal in the world and that I should try my best not to anger you. Otherwise you would most probably eat me alive. Which would be a shameful waste after all the good money he invested in my education."

This surely took the wind out of Arthur's sails. Despite himself he laughed and finally smiled at her with heart felt affection. "Thanks, My Lady. You sure know what to say to a man who was about to lose his head."

"Arthur please let me say something else while there is still time" she said. When she hesitatingly laid her hand on his wrist he flinched and she let go immediately. "We both know what our parents have in mind for us" she continued softly. "I just wanted to say….I can't know what you feel but on my part….even after so short an acquaintance I think I could do much worse than becoming your wife."

He only stared at her, disbelieving that she should be so bold as to make the first step and she smiled somewhat forgivingly. "Maybe one day you might be able to lose your head about me, who knows?"

Deeply embarrassed he turned his flushed face away from her. "Brianna, you mustn't think that I don't like you, you're most lovable but I ….. I just don't…."

"I know what happened to her" she gently replied. "My mother told me that she has been killed while your father's men tried to free you. I wouldn't want you to forget her but…...perhaps one day you might find it in you to think of somebody else."

When he began a confused reply she laid her fingers on his lips. "Don't say anything now. Apparently we will meet much more often from now on. Let's just see what this will bring about in the end."

He watched her go away, the gentle swing of her dress, her lean and upright figure and he thought that he was a complete asshole to let her go like this. For the first time since he had been told that this woman should be his wife he seriously thought about how it might be to have her for a companion and as a woman. Surely it wouldn't be so bad? He'd always known he'd have to marry some noble woman of his father's choosing in the end, like it or not, but being married to Brianna O'Brian – suddenly the perspective wasn't that horrible any more.

He still pondered his conflicting emotions when the Hamiltons arrived and negotiations began again. Seeing his father relish in Lord O'Brian's company made him feel guilty that he shouldn't be able to comply with the wish to bring the two families even closer. Everything would be perfect. And yet. And yet. The only thing he knew for sure was that under no circumstances he was to bind himself closer to any of these people.

The Prince still had no explanation of why his family and closest allies should be 'these people' to him when the guests took their leave. Arthur's father beamed with joy over the once again successful deals he had made. In his delight he granted his son and heir every wish and Arthur heaved a sigh of relief at the thought of next day's departure to the far off western hills. To look after the outlying settlements there would mean at least three weeks outdoors with only a few soldiers and his servant to escort him.

The two Pendragons celebrated the successful finalisation of the negotiations until midnight.

Five hours later Arthur awoke from his sleep with a violent jolt. He cursed bitterly when he found his body once more covered in sweat and his limps trembling with the aftermath of the nightmare he had had.

The last thing he now wanted was his servant prying around, doubtlessly collecting information he could pass on to the Prince's already overly worried father.

Silently the Prince washed and dressed and did his best to make the bed before he made his way to the Court Physician. He knew he should have done that much earlier. But then, at this hour he might even have a chance to reach the infirmary unseen.

Unfortunately this wasn't the case. Only too late the Prince realised that the healer was with someone and that this someone was Arthur's father. Of course this meant that he stood no chance whatsoever to hide his real state from him.

They had their by now usual verbal duel – 'Arthur, you're overtaxing yourself by these constant activities' followed by 'father, it's nothing, I just need more time to unwind, so to say' – until the conversation had run full circle and the healer wisely administered some medication before he ushered the Prince out of his infirmary.

Arthur started packing the moment he reached his room again. No use pressing his luck by waiting until his father might change his mind about permitting this little vacancy he was planning on having.

Meanwhile the two old men in the infirmary stared at each other, crestfallen the one and punitively the other.

"So it has begun, just as you predicted it would" Pendragon said with unusual meekness.

"It hasn't _begun_" the Court Physician said. "It never fully worked in the first place. You have bitten off more than even you could chew. And now the boy has to suffer the consequences."

"You said from the beginning that I was too rash in this."

"Yes, Yvain, that's what I said" Maelfwyn replied coldly. "That's exactly what I said. But now it is too late to go back."


	18. Finalisation attempts

**18. Finalisation attempts**

"No, no and no again, Yvain! Whatever you say you will not convince me that this is a sensible course of action. It might do even more damage than you have already caused."

The Duke couldn't remember that he had seen Maelfwyn _that_ irritated or obstinate before. "But you are the one who's constantly telling me that my measures have not been successful and that the barrier I created to block Arthur's memory will not hold."

"It's the truth" the sorcerer stubbornly insisted. "You tried to square a circle, My Lord and that's something not even your exceptional powers can achieve. Especially not on a field you are neither gifted nor trained for."

"But you are" Yvain replied with a patient smile that must have cost him a great deal of self-control. "At least you have been thoroughly trained on that score, albeit you have no mind reading abilities."

"And that's exactly the reason why I knew from the start that this wouldn't work. You knew you wouldn't be able to really alter Arthur's personality, but nevertheless you wanted to have all his loyalties and affections transferred to you. You thought if you blocked his memories and span some fitting fairy tales to give him new ones, this would work. What did you take him for, a goose's hatchling that follows the first voice it hears after it has hatched? He's a twenty three years old human being with a will of his own! Besides, you went about the whole operation as if you wanted to repair a piece of delicate glass-work with a carpenter's hammer. Now that you are facing the foreseeable pile of shards you come to me for a solution."

"You said that there was one, albeit I wouldn't like it." By now Yvain's voice had taken on the deviously silky calm it had when the Duke was at the end of his tether.

"Look, Yvain" Maelfwyn instinctively tried to take the edge out of the conversation "you could still let me reverse everything you did. It would be as if it had never happened. If we acted quickly, he would heal completely, I can guarantee that much. And it's not as if he had any chance to run away. Knowing what you could do to him, he might even go on pretending to be your son and heir willingly. He almost did as much in Massilia, remember? And only because you had agreed to spare this little pet sorcerer he was so fond of."

No use reminding Yvain of the special bond that the two young men shared. It had left the Duke extremely, venomously jealous of the peasant warlock, this Merlin. After all, Pendragon had had high hopes that he would eventually bind his nephew to himself. Such a bond could be created only once in a lifetime and Yvain had utterly relied on his assumption that Uther would not harbour a sorcerer long enough in Camelot to do it. Only the knowledge that Merlin's death would have meant Arthur's demise had tied Pendragon's hand.

"You have securely isolated him from each and everyone else" Maelfwyn continued his umpteenth attempt to convince his friend and master to see reason. "He's only human after all, he's used to being accepted and loved; he will come to you all on his own in the end. I know he's stubborn and proud like Satan himself but even he will give up eventually. All it would need is a bit of patience on your side. I know it's much demanded of you, but….." The sorcerer smiled furtively while his voice trailed off.

However, his hopes had risen prematurely. During Maelfwyn's sermon Yvain had paced the room restlessly, a deep frown contorting his face. Now he stopped in midstride and gave his old friend a sarcastic grin. "What has become of 'he'll always hate you, Yvain' or 'you'll never be able to turn your back to him, Yvain', huh? You've always been a real fan of contradicting yourself but even for you this goes a bit too far, wouldn't you agree?"

The sorcerer racked his brain for an explanation that might, just might, be short and concise enough to reach the target. "Back then I did not know that you would be willing to leave Tintagel" he finally said. "From there, escape might still have been possible one day, but not from here. And you could make it an issue that Uther is alive and well. If he had had to see you as his father's murderer you'd never been safe from Arthur's revenge, I still think that."

"So you would advise me to make everything undone and to keep him prisoner until he yields under the pressure? Agrees to some…durable arrangement? We tried this before and he made as all believe that we had sucessfully tamed him, until he killed this wretched guard commander."

Maelfwyn laid all the power and strength of his own deep conviction into his next words. "You told me that you do not want his death _and_ that you want your brother to suffer the loss of his son. If these are still your priorities, there _is_ no other way. It's impossible to undo 23 years of memories and life experience. Not even you can create another person. Nor can I!"

For the briefest of moments Maelfwyn once more hoped that he had persuaded his friend but then Yvain shook his head. "No" he said. "We will give it another try. He has been away for so long now, twice I allowed him to stay longer in the Western Hills than originally planned. The injuries I caused may already have healed. He'll arrive tonight for all I know, let's just see how it goes, shall we?"

Aggravated as well as tired out the sorcerer fired his last shot. "You are the one who wanted him alive from the very start. If he dies, where will that leave you?"

"If my nephew was to die, I'd know whom I would hold responsible" the Duke replied and the threat in these words was unmistakable. He gave it a second to sink in before he laid his hand on Maelfwyn's shoulder with a most friendly smile. "After all I've been relying on _your_ exceptional powers in this from the beginning."

The sorcerer kept silent after that. With a sinking heart he watched the Duke leave Cearcean Castle's infirmary. He knew two things for an absolute surety. The injuries Yvain had caused with his violent onslaught wouldn't miraculously heal and the Prince's life was in grave danger. At the same time not all the wizards and sages in the whole of Connemara together would be able to convince Yvain Pendragon of something he did not want to hear.

Briefly the Duke's friend wondered if this character trait ran in the Pendragon family, whether Uther might be of the same inclination when it came to ignoring inconvenient facts. But then Maelfwyn's mind turned to other, more pressing issues.

Yvain had, in a twisted, misguided way, developed something like parental love for his young nephew. He had come to regard him as the son he'd always wanted to have from Lordegrade, the son the love of his life had lost together with her sanity when Uther's first born had been killed before her very eyes.

The old sorcerer sighed desperately. There was nothing for it. He would have to give it a try. By one desperate, foolhardy measure he might still be able to keep all three of them clear of disaster. But he'd try this on his own. No use keeping Yvain's hopes up when failure was so very imminent.

Only two hours after Arthur had come back to Cearcean it became clear to anyone but to the young man's alleged 'father' that nothing had changed during his prolonged absence. The Prince was absent minded, nervous, restless and obviously in pain. Maelfwyn had no problem whatsoever of convincing Arthur to take the sleeping draft he offered him the minute they were alone in the young man's quarters.

The strong potion took effect after a few minutes. Once he knew him to be securely drugged the old sorcerer pulled all his courage together and cast the strongest spell he'd ever used on an issue of this kind. Slowly, very carefully his enlarged and expanded senses entered the sleeping young man's mind and searched for the hapless captive he knew Yvain had left behind when he had blocked the Prince's access to his original memories.

Somewhere behind that barrier the real Arthur was still fighting to regain his freedom and to retake control of his mind, Maelfwyn was sure of it. This fight had to be the reason for the constant flashbacks, the continuous pain and the barely hidden anxiety attacks which were plainly visible to anyone who did not conscientiously choose to ignore the signs.

The old sorcerer felt his own heart beat thunderously while he sneaked into the forbidden realm of another person's soul. As he had expected, he found himself in a building, in a castle actually. Dark, gloomy, threateningly vast corridors he saw and wandered, with only the shadows of people populating them. Outside the sun was shining brightly and merry voices were to be heard but inside the rooms which stood for the Prince's mind twilight ruled. Where there should have been sound memories of people and feelings, love, hatred, affection, rejection, laughter, crying and each and everything in between a young human being would normally remember vividly, Arthur's mind showed only ghosts, fleeting, barely formed images. Sometimes a person's face and body would flicker, show the features and shapes of another person, another face, before it would flicker back to his original appearance.

From somewhere beneath him Maelfwyn heard someone scream. Anger, despair but also resolve came from this voice. As did the memory of hot and searing pain.

'**Go near this and you will suffer. Stay away from this voice and the pain will cease****'**.

Maelfwyn's only imagined knees became wobbly when he realized that this simple order was about everything Yvain's attack had really achieved. The memories weren't even effectively locked away. A sound, a smell, a sight could bring them dangerously close to the surface and then the pain would start until Arthur himself, in instinctive self-defence, would try his best to block them again.

"You really are one of the tougher sort, aren't you, young Sire" Maelfwyn thought. "I know a few people who would have lost their mind months ago under such torture. Someone must have trained you most thoroughly in hiding your thoughts and fighting your own inner battles alone. No doubt, it must have been a pleasure to grow up as Uther Pendragon's son."

The old sorcerer gave himself ample time to watch the coming and going in the corridors and rooms that symbolized the young man's mind. He knew the drug would work for hours to come and what seemed to be an eternity in here would count only for seconds, at most minutes, in the real world.

Only when he felt ready he drew a deep breath and began the task he had come for. As the sleeping drug worked like a sedative, he could loosen the barrier, setting the blocked images free without causing the fit this would usually call for.

Slowly, methodically he used his own memories of Yvain in different stages of his life, of Cearcean over the years, of some people who still lived here to implant real world images and surroundings where Yvain's sloppy, violent work and later narratives had created only fleeting shadows, mere ghosts of badly faked or only half formed memories.

Wherever he could, he left what he came across intact. Step by step pictures of Uther were replaced by Yvain's features. Gaius became Maelfwyn himself. Nothing more. Hoping that the creative mind, with its inner impetus to restore itself, would finally make all images and impressions compatible with the pictures he implanted, Maelfwyn concentrated on the most important, the most conflicting ones. Other memories the sorcerer blocked completely. Gorlois' daughters were among them. Maelfwyn hated this part of his endeavour. As the two minds, his and Arthur's, communicated in symbols and images, to block a memory meant to kill the person who embodied it. Some memories were strong and fought back but in the end the active mind would always defeat the sleeping, disturbed one.

With singular relief Maelfwyn heard the screaming voice from below become weaker and weaker until it fell completely silent. He turned his back on the castle itself and went downstairs.

The sorcerer wasn't surprised when he found the young captive exactly where Yvain had left him; in a room that looked conspicuously like the cellar of the mansion in Massilia. However, this time the real Prince was not alone. At the side of his now unconscious body, a sign that Maelfwyn had indeed been able to block or alter the memories of which he consisted, two other persons were kneeling. Like Arthur himself, these weren't fleeting shadows, these were real life images.

The young warlock-in-disguise Maelfwyn recognized at once. The dark skinned woman opposite of him was unfamiliar, though. However, the reason for their being here was obvious. Yvain had not dared to touch the bonds that held Arthur to these two people in the first place; he had only managed to keep them behind the barrier of pain and fear he had originally created.

"Who are you?" 'Merlin's' image said and the rage in his face was more threatening than the young man who had been knocked out by the seals could have been to Yvain's powerful Court Sorcerer. Or so Maelfwyn thought. "What have you done to my friend? Answer me!"

The silent 'or else' was unmistakable. 'Guinivere's' reflection turned away from her love and joined her companion. Her eyes sparkled with anger and revengefulness too.

"He's only asleep" Maelfwyn answered their question hoarsely, trying his best not to forget that he wasn't really speaking to the two persons he saw but to the memories of them which actually were parts of Arthur's mind. "There was no other way. If his body had died, he would have died with it. I admit, what I did locked your friend in here for good, but at least he'll be alive. Outside. In the real world. Surely you know where and what you are?"

"You call that 'life'? 'Merlin' snorted. "He's not himself anymore."

"In every trait and shred of character and personality, he still _is_ Arthur Pendragon and I dare say that the Duke will have his hands full with him. However he'll live the life of Yvain's son from now on and he will mourn your deaths until the day he dies. But I can promise you, other than that he will be happy and content. I know that you'll never believe me, but Yvain loves him."

"You call this _love_?" 'Guinivere' pointed at the mortifying surroundings, at the traces of brutal restraints and abuse the unconscious body showed.

"You know the singular definition of love and care a Pendragon can come up with" Maelfwyn replied with some bitterness. "Don't tell me that his father was ever squeamish in punishing him. Or his friends."

The young warlock ignored the last remark. "You're swaying, old man" 'Merlin' said with visible satisfaction. "Your nose is bleeding. Could it be that you have overtaxed yourself a bit?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'a bit'" Maelfwyn replied with a weak smile. "However, you'll have to excuse me now. I fear I have overstayed my welcome in this stronghold."

With these words he pulled back as quickly as he could and banged the door shut. While he locked all the bolts the door had he heard the angry fists pounding against it from the inside. "Forgive me, my boy" he murmured. "Your former life or your future life – Yvain left us both no other choice but to sacrifice the one for the other."

While he dragged his failing body upstairs to find the exit from Arthur's mind he continued his imagined dialogue with his victim. "Do you know that Yvain really thinks that he hasn't got his other half so far? That he'd been free to bond with you, of all people? But then I think this whole Pendragon prophecy thing is superstitious nonsense. Always has been."

He made it to the first floor, where he had originally arrived. "Sleep well, my Prince" he thought while he returned to the real world.

Once back in his real body, Cearcean and Arthur's quarters the old sorcerer heaved a sigh of relief. Never, not in his wildest dreams, he would have imagined that he could actually _do_ this. And now it had been _that_ easy. Yvain had been right, after all.

He was a bit tired, though. Maybe they both had gone on in years too much for such stunts. He would lie down, only for a few minutes. As soon as he was rested, he would leave. If the boy found him in his quarters when he came to, it would only provoke unwholesome questions. The process of the memories adapting themselves to the new scenario should not be disturbed.

Arthur awoke in the morning, more rested than he had felt in a very long time. Without thinking he just lay still and enjoyed the exquisite impression of being free of pain and discomfort for once. He knew he had had another dream but he couldn't remember it, no matter how hard he tried.

He had no idea why this might be but the by now familiar feeling of being caged inside Cearcean, of being with people he didn't belong to, was gone. For once he did not dread the day ahead of him. Instead he was actually looking forward to meeting with his ducal father. Really, he had been away much too long this time, even to his own liking. Whatever it had been that had kept him in the Western Hills, he could not for the life of his remember.

With his former agility he swung his legs out of the bed.

When his feet hit the body on the floor Maelfwyn's corpse was already cold.


	19. Intermezzo

**A/N: **This chapter is extremely short. Please accept my humble apology for this. The next chapters are already under construction and they will be of normal length. I only needed this 'Intermezzo' as a bridge to some events in the next chapters.

So please don't be angry with me.

**19. Intermezzo**

Yvain grinned sardonically while he scrolled through the letters once more, making sure that he hadn't missed anything. Maddox' former report from Massilia had been uninteresting, to say the least but Bedwyn had reported very important news from Albion.

The Duke almost heard the breathless voice and the fat man's heavy panting which always accompanied Tintagel's Major Domus wherever he went.

So Borowyn was dead. Yvain shrugged. Served the man right for trying to betray both Pendragons at the same time. For twenty years the filthy, treacherous pig had taken favours and a considerable fortune from Uther _and_ Yvain and all the time he had been waiting for an opportunity to set the two brothers at each others throats, seeing to it that Arthur, the last of the Pebdragons, would be killed in the process.

"Great plan" Yvain had to admit, if only to himself. "If it had worked." He felt some heart warming satisfaction at the thought that apparently thanks to old Gaius and Geoffrey Borowyn's scheme had failed.

But unfortunately this execution also meant that Uther had been able to save his political neck once more, at least for the time being. If Bedwyn's intelligence was correct, the King had taken this young warlock under his wing and cast off for Massilia, with his Council's blessings for another wild goose chase to find their precious Crown Prince.

If all had gone well Uther and his men should have reached Massilia some weeks ago, shortly after Maddox had posted his last report to his Duke. Yvain relished in the thoughts of how his brother must have felt when he realized that Arthur had been snatched away from him again. He had given Maddox strict orders not to inform the King of his son's present whereabouts.

"Let him hunt for what he's lost to all eternity." Yvain thought. "You'll never get him back, Uther. You _can't_ have him back, even if you were to find us here. Just find yourself a dark corner and rot for all I care."

Pendragon went to one of the windows that overlooked Cearcean Castle's vast gardens and immediately his eyes found what they had been looking for.

It had been a small miracle that Lordegrade should have accepted him like that but Arthur had done wonders for her in the time they had been together here.

Now she, who had been locked up for years for the danger she posed to herself and everybody else, was strolling through the gardens with the young man she thought to be her son. Arthur seemed to be telling her something and it appeared as if she were actually _listening_ to him.

For a short second Yvain allowed himself to believe it, to really believe that these two people between the trees and flower beds actually _were_ his wife and son, as by right they should have been.

The illusion lasted until a pang of guilt brought the Duke back to reality. Maelfwyn's death still hurt. It was unbelievable what he had achieved with Arthur. From all what Yvain had seen from his young prisoner, who didn't even remember that he was held here against his will, the illusion Maelfwyn had sacrificed his life in creating was perfect – and stable.

Not once the former headaches or flashbacks had returned. The first time the young Prince had casually asked after Lordegrade, calling her his mother, Yvain had had to lean against his desk to hide his surprise. It had been only in this moment that the Duke had fully realized that the fake memory Maelfwyn had obviously created was actually still growing, that it apparently was continuously rewriting the young man's original experiences in order to make them compatible with the new scenario.

Fortunately Arthur had accepted a heart attack as the cause of Maelfwyn's death without questions. Obviously he did not remember anything of what the old sorcerer had done to him. Or Yvain, for that matter. The Duke had wondered to what the Prince's memories of his captivity in Tintagel and Massilia would change over time but then he had shoved the unwelcome thought aside.

Yvain had plunged into this new relationship and it hadn't needed much time before he had come to thoroughly enjoy Arthur's company, his obvious affection and loyalty. This was more than satisfaction at his brother's ultimate defeat and loss. What the Duke felt for Arthur now was an emotion in its own right.

Yvain looked through the window and unbeknownst to the two persons he had come to love above everything else the Duke marvelled at the twisted paths fate had taken to lead them all to this point. If his original plan had worked, Lordegrade would have left him for good, Uther would eventually have been killed and Arthur – naturally Yvain had never really believed he could have kept him prisoner for long after the King's death. Camelot would have seen to that.

"I would have stayed behind in Tintagel with the knowledge that I had finally destroyed my brother as my only reward" he mused silently. "How long it would have taken the new King of Camelot to destroy _me_ for this crime?"

In this very moment Arthur turned, saw his 'father' at the window and waved. He seemed perfectly at ease. Yvain waved back and turned away from the window. "The last of the Pendragons" Yvain thought again with a warm smile that had once been a rare guest on his features. "_My_ son!"


	20. Unlikely allies

**20. Unlikely allies**

Yvain hadn't been that joyful and relaxed if he had known what had really happened in Massilia.

Immediately after the ship had docked the impatient King had begun his search for his brother. To his companions' dismay Uther had taken much cover.

He had waited too long for the moment he would be reunited with his son to be careful. More than 18 months now since Arthur's abduction, two years almost since his son had left for the accursed progress to the big estates of Camelot. There had been a night in which the father had awoken from a restless sleep with a start. With his heart beating like a drum and a sick feeling in his stomach he had realized that he couldn't recall his son's face anymore, or the exact sound of his voice. He had told nobody but this night had given his search a new urgency.

Knowing Yvain's keen sense for business and the pleasure he took in wide spanned trading ventures, Uther first visited the trade exchange where he posed as a wealthy noble with an interest in expanding his own trading network – in other words, the King posed more or less as himself.

There had always been those who claimed that an affectionate respect for money and a healthy appetite for getting more of it was an as deep running character trait in the Pendragon family as the appetite for power.

Naturally Camelot's proud King would have denied that violently. Albeit, Arthur's casual attitude towards money – if you have it, spend it, if you don't have it, do something else with your time – hadn't been to King Uther's liking either.

However His Majesty, used to being showered with attention – sometimes friendly, sometimes hostile but always _attention_ – found that the business circles of Massilia did not exactly welcome strangers.

Fortunately for the desperate father, the young and ambitious abbot of St. Victor's abbey had also been waiting for a silver light to shimmer at the horizon, albeit his grievances were of an entirely different nature.

His Eminence, who had made such a splendid entrance into the circles of the city's notables, had lost more than a friendly acquaintance and a good host when Yvain had fled Massilia. Alas, the abbot had insulted the wrong sinners in his zest to fulfil his religious duties. While it might have earned him a place in heaven, his relentless persecution of some sins of the flesh hadn't exactly been supportive to his financial interests. It didn't do to publicly humiliate some of the richest merchants who also happened to be the ranking members of Massilia's board of trade.

Many hours the harassed man of God spent in silent contemplation of the abbey's unfinished great church. The Holy Father was somewhat distant from Southern Gaul and as for His Holiness' purse…. Well, Rome had always been a somewhat expensive place to live.

But then, so was Massilia.

Small wonder, therefore, that His Eminence should recover his Greek when he first heard of another rich Albion noble interested in gaining a foothold in Massilia's prosperous sea trading. "Heureka!" the abbot exclaimed and received the young pageboy who had been sent with an invitation to a reception aboard Uther's ship with more kindness than he usually would have shown a messenger.

Especially a messenger with a most despicable lack of respect and religious empathy.

Merlin, on the other hand, enjoyed himself thoroughly in the abbot's study. Many of the other merchants hadn't received him at all or they had made him wait in some draughty corridors or even stables. Some of the smaller houses had been friendly enough as well as flattered by the foreigner's attentiveness but the warlock knew enough about Yvain Pendragon by now to gather that His Grace wouldn't have humbled his august person by associating with Massilia's lesser circles.

But this room looked more like it. The young peasant from Ealdor had no idea of what a few years in castles and among a very conceited nobility had done to enhance his sense for refinery and expensive taste. Now one look at the fine brocades and the silken robes that were scattered over the magnificent furniture sufficed to show him that he had come to a befitting place.

Merlin looked at a small, silver sculpture on the desk with the fine carvings. "What's that?" he asked curiously.

"A picture of The Lord Jesus Christ" the abbot said somewhat stiffly.

"Is he one of your Gods?" the warlock asked and thought himself to be very polite and caring with all this interest for other people's religious ideas.

"He is the one and only God!" The abbot almost choked. Such insolence! Damned foreigners. Pagans, the lot of them.

"Oh well" Merlin said somewhat confused by the man's unmistakable anger. His eyes fell on another sculpture in the corner and he tried to make amends for the insult he had obviously committed. Although he could not for the life of his say how and when he should have gone wrong.

"She's very beautiful." The warlock smiled in genuine admiration of the wooden Virgin with the child. The young man heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the smile return to the abbot's face.

"She's magnificent, isn't she?" the abbot beamed. "The work of one of Gaul's best artists. He captured her divine innocence perfectly, as well as her deep grieve over her son's imminent death, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes. Most perfectly. Really. She's very beautiful. As I said, I mean, as _you_ said. Perfect." Merlin decided to forget about the dying part. Dying was always a sensitive subject to most people.

The abbot now virtually radiated good will and friendliness. The sculpture was one of his secret prides. He intended to put her on display in the new church as soon as it would be completed. "You have a fine eye for art" he smiled. "It seems to be a quality of the gentlemen from Albion. The young Pendragon Prince complimented me on this piece, too. On the evening I had bought it."

Merlin thought that the impact of his lower jaw on the floor must have been audible. Quickly he shut his mouth and swallowed before he opened it again. "A Prince, My Lord?"

"Yes, Arthur Pendragon, Duke Yvain's young ward. Do you know them?" Trust the abbot to use a good opportunity to show off his high ranking social connections.

"Fleetingly" the warlock managed to get out even before his brain started to work normally again. "They are related to my master. Distantly. Distantly related, I mean."

"Are they indeed. Wasn't it a kind thing to do to take in the young man after his father had gotten himself killed? His Grace hides such a kind heart under his cold outer shell."

The warlock cast a furtive glance at the door. No use throwing up on the carpet. It was much too beautiful for that. "Yes" he pressed out. "His kind heart has always been very well hidden. One might even think he hasn't got one."

With as much innocence as he could muster he returned the abbot's confused gaze. "And young Pendragon is the Duke's _ward_, you said?"

"Indeed. I had the opportunity to meet him only once but there are many others in the city who have been better acquainted with him. Such a fine, educated young man, albeit always somewhat remote, distanced. It's only natural of course that he should still be in mourning; he dead rascal _was_ his father after all. And _so_ grateful for everything his uncle has done for him. Arthur obeyed the Duke's every beck and call the evening I met him. True Christian modesty and humility is such a rare treat in a young noble, isn't it? There you are."

With his last words the abbot handed his written reply to Uther's invitation to the 'pageboy'. The second he faced the young warlock the smile left his face and he recoiled a step. Had the boy grown _taller_ over the last few minutes?

Merlin pulled back his magic before it could leash out and crush a few bones. "Would you tell me where I can find His Grace and his" he almost retched and covered it with a slight cough "his ward? I'm sure my master would appreciate the opportunity to be reunited with his relatives more than even the treasure of Salomon himself."

The abbot's face fell. He had understood the insinuations perfectly. He would have given his right hand to oblige someone who would be willing to spend _that_ kind of money on a reward. But alas….

"Alas" His Eminence said sadly "Duke Yvain has left Massilia some time ago. You see, after the dinner party His Grace had given in my honour the Prince fell ill and a few weeks later I got word that the Duke had decided to bring him to a place with a more suitable climate."

"Where?" Merlin no longer bothered with appearances.

"I don't know. As I said I'm very sorry I can't be of better service to your master, but…"

"Where do we find Yvain's residence in Massilia? Has he left someone behind? Answer me!"

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me, you insolent …." And the abbot's voice trailed off while his eyes went wide. Something emanated from the young man who stood in front of him, something very, very threatening.

"I _said_, answer me!"

"The Duke resided in the great mansion directly at the northern end of the harbour" the terrified abbot stammered. "As far as I know only his secretary Maddox and a few guards stayed behind when he left. All the others were dismissed, from guard commander to scullery maid. There was much talk in the city as to why someone should spend a king's ransom first on paying off reliable staff and subsequently on hiring new personnel in a new place."

Merlin's eyes glittered dangerously. A king's ransom, indeed. "How many men are guarding the house?"

"Five or six, at most."

"Thank you, My Lord" the wizard said, suddenly all kindness and servility again. "You have been most kind." Merlin bowed to the mortified man and left the study, the abbot's letter still in his hand. He was already half way out of the house when he heard the first scream and a deeply satisfied smile spread on his face.

The poor abbot would never know why his trimmings and furnishings were crawling with worms and vermin all of a sudden but when night fell on this gruesome day every single piece, textile, metal, wooden or otherwise, had crumbled to dust. Only the beautiful silver crucifix and the wooden Madonna had been spared.

For a man with a lack of religious empathy Merlin had a strange sense of what to spare from his anger.

Any road, this evening found the young warlock on a completely different quest.

Uther had lost no time and the setting sun found him, Gaius, Merlin, Leon and four soldiers by one of the northern jetties. They had been watching Yvain's former residence for a while and the King's spite had reached a climax. It was so much like his brother to choose this mansion. No back entrance, all doors in full sight of the jetties and the harbour promenade, the impressive row of first floor windows giving full overview of the whole area. Easy to guard, easy to shut off, the mansion had made a perfect cage for the royal bird Yvain had captured. And a gilded cage as well. The house's front alone spoke of wealth and power. Albeit on a much smaller scope, the masonry rivalled that of Camelot. Uther had no doubt that from the inside the residence would look even more splendid. Speaking of the inside….

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Then let's go." The group, all in different civilian clothing, scattered across the promenade and met as if per chance by the house's delivery entrance downstairs of the front door. As Uther had hoped there were no magical precautions and the lock posed no problem to Merlin at all. It took him a few seconds before they were all inside the deserted kitchens from where they made their way up.

They met the first four guards on the ground floor where Merlin knocked them out cold from behind. The two others were with Maddox in the first floor study.

Uther heard the murmur of voices when they passed the door. He stormed into the room, all precautions forgotten and went immediately for the young Druid at the desk. Merlin saw the disaster coming and blocked the ball of lethal energy Maddox fired at his opponent. When the Druid turned in surprise he stumbled under a second onslaught. Aggravated by the unfamiliar feeling of being in the defensive he focused solely on the young warlock. Maddox' furious retaliation knocked Merlin of his legs. Uther saw him fall, heard his scream and moved faster than he had been able to in a long time. Maddox' face had an almost comical expression when the hilt of Uther's sword hit the back of his head with vicious force.

To bring him to one of the cellar rooms was a purely logistical problem for the Camelot soldiers while Uther and his two magical friends searched the house for any traces of Arthur. Neither Gaius nor Merlin expected to find anything that told them more than they had already learned about the Prince's fate. But they also knew that Uther's terrible disappointment would make even the slightest hint that his son had actually lived here extremely precious.

They searched the many rooms but found nothing of significance. Merlin looked at Uther's face and thought that he would not like to change place with Maddox right now. After they had searched the cellars, the King came back to finally question his prisoner.

"What a long and uncomfortable journey you must have had and all for nothing" Maddox said. "If I can make the time, I'll try to feel sorry for Your Majesty but I can't give any guarantees."

"Oh, you will have all the time in world to feel sorry, that much _I_ can guarantee to _yo_u" Uther replied; "but you will feel sorry only for yourself."

With the same serene calm Maddox cocked a brow. "My Lord, you know as well as I, if it hadn't been for your little master sorcerer here you'd be my prisoner right now, not vice versa. So if I were you I wouldn't talk that big."

This earned him a hard cuff from an aggravated Sir Leon before Uther could stop the knight, but the Druid wizard had gone through a schooling much harder than what a man of Leon's character could give him. His sarcastic smile didn't even waver.

"I'd think we have more important matters to discuss" Merlin chimed in and Gaius flinched. The healer had yet to adapt to the new relationship between his ward and the King. It was hard to stomach that Uther, behind all his talk about 'idiot' and 'mascot', had actually known or at least guessed the warlock's true identity.

"Indeed, we have" the King now confirmed Merlin's remark. "I came here to find my son and I swear that's what I'm going to do. So you better tell me where he is."

Maddox let go of his derisive attitude. "I'm sorry, the Duke has left Massilia months ago, long before you departed from Camelot, I dare say" he said seriously. "Your son was brought aboard some days before the Duke's ship cast off."

Although he had already known that he would not find Arthur here this confirmation was a slap into Uther's face. Irrational as it may have been he had still hoped that by entering this house, things would somehow change in their favour.

"Merlin, can you say whether Arthur is somewhere near or not?" the King asked. Hope is a hard thing to kill in any man.

Gaius shook his head in dismay but at the same time he shook it in wonder. Uther was as changeable as the weather in April sometimes; his life-long friend had known that for years. But _this_ change, this casual willingness to use the very abilities which he despised so much in anybody else; abilities which would have been as lethal as black pestilence under normal circumstances – _this_ change kept the old healer in constant awe.

As for the young warlock he still felt somewhat uneasy around the King. His feelings were mixed, to say the least. Sometimes he began to develop an affection for the tormented father of his closest friend but then a memory would set in, of Gaius in the dungeons, of a man named Balinor in his dark, ugly cavern and the tender saplings would wither away again. If addressed directly by Uther Pendragon, Merlin always trembled inwardly. Now he fidgeted nervously, rubbing his hands, then his nose. "Sire, I think he's right" he finally said. "If Arthur were somewhere near, I think I could ….sense him but there's nothing."

"You're sure?" Uther's clipped voice earned Merlin a sympathetic look from Maddox, of all people.

"Yes, Sire. Absolutely sure."

The King briefly looked at the young wizard. How could this boy be an enigma and an open book at the same time? He'd never understand this paradox. But in this very moment Uther could virtually read the magician's mind by looking at his face. If Arthur had been somewhere in range, Merlin would have looked different. Not so sad. And definitely not that utterly crestfallen.

In fact the young man's disappointment seemed to match the King's own. All of a sudden Uther felt something like comfort coming to him. Apparently his wasn't the only heart which had some difficulty to stand the sadness and the rage that had filled the hole Arthur's disappearance had left behind.

"I take it that you can at least tell me where Yvain has taken his captive this time?" The King turned back to Maddox.

"To his estate in Eire" the Druid answered without hesitation. "Of that I am certain. I overheard the Duke and Maelfwyn talking about what provisions they'd need for a journey to His Grace's estate in Connemara."

"Cearcean Castle" the King muttered. "Damn him. An unapproachable coast, the next harbour miles away, pathless hills on one side, heather and marshlands on all the others. Only the inhabitants know their ways through it and they all fear my brother more like hell and high water I shouldn't wonder."

"The 'demon' they call him, if I remember correctly" Maddox said. "A very apt description of the stronghold by the way."

"Don't be too sure that it will save your master" Uther hissed at his prisoner. "This time _nothing_ will save Yvain as soon as I lay my hands on him."

"Nothing but the fact that your son is at his mercy. Perhaps even more so than you could imagine."

"What's that supposed to mean?" They all flinched in surprise at Gaius' rude question. Especially as the old man's dreadful suppositions made his voice uncharacteristically aggressive.

The Druid wizard bit his lip, his face that of a man who's blurted out more than he had wanted to tell. "I am sorry, but I have to admit that Arthur was in bad shape when last I saw him" Maddox finally said. "The Duke had ….punished him for an act of disobedience. I don't know any details."

"And pray tell me, how badly was my son hurt by this so called punishment?"

Merlin thought of how it had felt when Arthur's despair and pain had reached him and he dreaded the answer to this question perhaps more than the King himself.

"Arthur was unconscious when he was brought aboard and they needed a few days before he was well enough for the ship to sail. The Duke had kept him bound and gagged continuously for a long time."

If it had been Maddox' intention to get under Uther's skin he had definitely succeeded. The King's hands opened and closed as if they were squeezing something. Or someone. "For how long?" he asked coldly.

"My Lord?"

"For how long has my brother seen fit to keep my son tossed up like an animal?"

Maddox shrugged. "Long enough to drive anyone mad."

The Druid winced when Uther's fist in his iron-clad leather glove hit his face with all the power the enraged King could muster. Pendragon did not even notice it but Maddox' magic protected him from most of the impact. Even so, his nose and lips bled violently. And yet he still smiled when the King grabbed him by the collar and twisted the cloth until the Druid choked under the pressure.

"I'll wipe this god-damned smile from your insolent face, you cheeky devil and if it is the last thing on earth I'll ever do" Uther hissed and his free hand fumbled for the dagger at his side.

Gaius, Merlin and even Leon acted simultaneously to prevent the King from killing their only source of valid information but they didn't come very far.

"I fear I must decline the friendly offer" Maddox said breathlessly. "You see, I do have more pressing appointments."

With these words his eyes changed colour and the King as well as his knight and soldiers were thrown across the full length of the vast room. They had lost consciousness before they hit the floor.

Merlin had been taken completely by surprise. Only now he realized that he had allowed his guard of the Druid to slip, too busy thinking about Arthur and what the man had said to take better heed of what the other magician might do. Horrified he saw Maddox come for Gaius who lay on the ground, helpless in the grip of the Druid's powerful magic. The young warlock ran with an outcry of fear towards the old healer but suddenly his legs gave in under him and he tumbled to the floor, directly in front of Maddox' feet and Gaius limp form.

The Druid looked at him apologetically and actually took the time to tousle Merlin's hair affectionately. "You are much stronger than me little brother but you lack the training. Don't you worry, I only borrow your friend. Take care of yourself, for your Prince's sake!"

"_No_!" Merlin screamed when Maddox lifted Gaius' body with impressive ease. "Leave him alone." But the Druid only smiled a last farewell and in a whirlwind of energy he and the old healer vanished from sight.

To his utmost mortification Merlin needed almost fifteen minutes before he could move his legs and arms again. His face was a brilliant red when he finally rose to his feet and it wasn't only from his physical exertion. He checked on Uther and the others and when he found them alive and apparently still in one piece, he almost sobbed with relief. However this changed immediately when the King found back the use of his body and his voice.

"Damn you, you and your stupidity" Uther roared at the young warlock. "Didn't I tell you to keep an eye on him?" The painful clout Merlin received willingly, as just punishment, but when the King shook him by the shoulders so hard that he couldn't speak any more he used a bit of his own magic to pull free.

Unwittingly Uther rubbed his wrists which had begun to hurt all of a sudden. "What kind of a magician are you? Even Gaius could have kept this bastard under guard. A most powerful _wa__r_lock, my arse! A walking stupidity, that's all you are."

The King knew very well that his behaviour bordered on the absurd. All magic aside the boy was a 21 years old servant and the Druid doubtlessly one of Yvain's best men. But it felt so _good_ to blame someone else for his own frustration that he couldn't stop himself, even though he had come to like Arthur's weird servant. Well, kind of. After all, as he had guessed, Merlin had given him some insights into his own son he'd never been able to obtain himself.

Uther stopped yelling only when he heard that someone was now yelling at _him_. To his astonishment, the young warlock had begun to shout back. At his King. Just like that. Who would have thought it possible.

"What did you say?"

"He said that he'll only borrow Gaius. I do not know what he meant but I think he does not want to harm him, don't you think?"

"What has Gaius to do with anything? Where is he, by the way? Gaius? Gaius!"

"Do be quiet, Merlin" Sir Leon said and shoved the warlock behind his broad back before the young man could go into another duel with the King. Before the King would fully realize what the peasant boy was doing.

"It seems that Maddox has escaped and that he has taken Gaius with him, Sire" the knight informed his master. "That's what Merlin was trying to tell you."

"_What?_ What on earth would he need my Court Physician for?"

"I have no idea, Sire, but I think we should leave here as soon as possible, before the guards come to. Someone might alert the authorities and neither Gaius nor His Highness would profit from us being arrested for assault and robbery."

There was no arguing the logic of Sir Leon's assessment and so they made haste to leave Yvain's beautiful house. Only Uther and Merlin knew that they actually had taken something from the mansion. A small golden locket on a broken chain they had found in one of the empty storage rooms in the cellar, among a heap of metal which, at closer examination, had proved to be a set of restraints. Uther had given the fine miniature picture of a blond woman inside the locket a brief look and had handed it to Merlin who had quickly hid the little item in his bag.

They had both known to whom this piece of jewellery belonged and it had been obvious that the chain had been ripped apart with some force. What use was there for words? Not all of Maddox' later revelations had come as a complete surprise.

Back on their ship Uther gave a short order and the vessel cast off immediately. Merlin, through all his grief and self-hatred, watched the captain cast one glance at his King before he virtually jumped to carry out Uther's orders. The warlock thought that even if wind and tide were against them, the sailors would find a way to bring their ship out of Massilia. Nobody in his right mind would want to defy the King of Camelot if he looked as he did now.

Nobody but a young warlock with a death wish. "We can't leave now, Your Majesty" Merlin said after he had followed Arthur's father into his cabin. "Gaius might be somewhere near; we can't just leave him behind!"

Incredulous at this unprecedented outrage, the King turned and stared at the skinny form with the stubborn face. For the split of a second, Merlin's welfare hung in a very precarious balance but then Uther smiled with a new hope of his own. "You can still sense his presence then? Gaius', I mean?"

Only now the warlock really expanded his senses and he found – nothing. Nothing at all. A kind of awe came over him. Dear Gods, to cast something as complex and dangerous as a teleportation spell _that_ fast, with another person in hold and then jump away far enough to be out of reach for another wizard's senses – if that was what Maddox had meant by 'training' it was no wonder that he had beaten Merlin so easily. The miracle had been that Merlin should have beaten Maddox in the first place. Or had he? Had he really? What if…

"Well? What is it?" The impatient urging cut through Merlin's thoughts and brought him back to reality.

"Actually I can't sense him" he had to admit. "They must be too far away already."

Uther's face fell. "All right" he muttered. "That's that then." He looked at Merlin and said "I take it you do agree now that we should leave for Eire?"

"Yes, Sire. I'm sorry."

"For what?" Uther asked. "This damned Druid fooled you into leaving Gaius unprotected like Borowyn fooled me into delivering my son to him on a silver platter. Believe me, I know how you feel." The warlock flinched when he felt his hair being ruffled. "I have the definite feeling that we haven't seen Maddox for the last time. There's one thing you should remember, Merlin. You can't always avoid defeat but you alone decide whether you try again."

"I did not know that Arthur had this pearl of wisdom from you" the warlock said.

"My son is 22, you can't expect him to have many pearls of his own."

"24" Merlin whispered, his hand already on the door handle.

"What did you say?"

"I mean, he's almost 24 by now" the young man repeated somewhat louder. "Not long now until his next birthday." Somewhere in his head a voice whispered that this wasn't a very kind thing to say under the circumstances but then, he didn't feel very kind hearted right now. He felt like being cruel.

He waited for Uther's reaction with the fatalism of someone who knew that, whatever would happen to him now, he had had it coming by his own fault. Even so he winced when he felt the King's body strive his back and reach over his shoulder.

Uther opened the door and gave the warlock a slight push. "Off you go now. Before we both become completely morbid. And Merlin…"

"What?"

"You can keep the locket. Perhaps Arthur would like you to give it back to him. Even at the advanced age of 24."


	21. A price to pay

**A/N:** From here on the story is a bit 'AU' I think. The Morgana in the series has turned evil, but in this story Morgana comes to another decision, at least partly. I pondered whether I should alter my planned story line, to make it more compatible with the developments in the series but then I decided against it. I hope you'll like it anyway.

Please R&R

**21. A price to pay**

Morgana turned away from her sister to hide her chagrin. Her anger turned away from Morgause and to herself when she felt tears stinging in her eyes – again.

Tears of disappointment; tears of remorse; tears of longing – she could have thought of some other reasons for those burning eyes of hers and they all would have been applicable.

The times in which Morgause had been a heaven sent, a possibility to break free from a life in Camelot that had seemed to be a lie, an illusion as well as a death trap – those times had soon passed. However, her sister still had had something to offer to her. At first Morgause's training lessons had done wonders for Morgana's magic abilities, had given them purpose, focus and a new sense of direction. But finally, even this had faded away. Today Morgana preferred to train and exercise on her own.

To say that Morgause despised her sister's self-reliance and her independence of will would have been a gross understatement. The sorceress, brought up under the strict, hierarchical training regime of the Blessed Isle, had no more understanding for Morgana's quest for liberty than Uther had had.

It had been a bleak day indeed when Morgana had first realized that, while her hatred against the King hadn't diminished at all, her desire to be reunited with the others in Camelot was painfully strong. Gwen, Gaius, Leon, and most of all, surprisingly, incredulously, Arthur - from this day it had been a small step to understand that her bond with them was stronger than everything that tied her to her sister.

In the beginning Morgana had tried to explain her feelings to Morgause, however she had had to realize that, when it came to jealousy and ego-centrism, the difference between her sister and her former guardian was somewhat difficult to identify. In the end Gorlois' eldest daughter had played the last card she had had up her sleeve. Arthur was _her_ brother. End of story.

The aim had been to tie Morgana closer to her sister. The outcome had been an alienation that had pushed Uther's former ward into a gruesome solitude which almost suffocated her. Morgause didn't even notice. Empathy wasn't exactly her forte.

When she had awoken from her first dream of Merlin, Morgana hadn't even thought about telling Morgause that her heart also longed for the young warlock who had tried to kill her. Since that moment Morgana's thoughts and her longings had been hers and hers alone. Morgause would never learn that her younger sister was almost dying of homesickness.

"Morgana, don't you hear me?" Morgause's anger was hard to miss. "I said there's a big chance for us in Maddox' plan. Tintagel is a strong power base from which we could easily take on Camelot."

"I heard you the first time you said that. It doesn't become more agreeable by the repetition" Morgana replied acidly. "Aren't you forgetting something? Your new Druid friend plans to get rid of _Yvain _Pendragon, that doesn't exactly open your way to Camelot's throne."

"Any road, Tintagel is our lawful heritage…" Morgause began a heated retort but Morgana interrupted her brusquely. Her skirts whirled around her ankles when she turned towards the door. "I do not see why you should waste your time on explaining your little conspiracies to me at all. They bore me to death, as you well know. I have to look after Gaius, he almost died on his feet when he and Maddox first came here."

"Frankly, I do not understand why Maddox troubled himself with the bag of old bones in the first place" Morgause snorted derisively.

"You may recall that your new Druid friend had tried to find you many times in the past. If it hadn't been for me and my wish to speak to Gaius when they passed us by, you'd never have shown your face to him. Maddox knew that without Gaius' help he'd never find you. And as a result the old man almost perished from exhaustion while the Druid dragged him along."

"Your concern for the healer is touching, Morgana. If only he had shown as much to you when you needed his help."

"Oh, but he did. If it hadn't been for him Uther had killed me years ago and you would not be forced to bother yourself with me. Now there's a thought."

"Morgana, wait. Wait, I tell you!" But Morgause yelled in vain at her sister's back. Morgana left the room and she had no intention to go back there any time soon. So she missed all the interesting negotiations between her sister and Maddox that were to follow. However, Uther's former ward didn't care at all about that. She preferred Gaius' company above that of her sister any day.

He did not realize it but the old healer's tales about the other people in Camelot comforted Morgana tremendously. Things came to a point where Morgana avoided Morgause altogether. When Morgana wasn't with Gaius, she spent her time outside the mansion, mostly on horseback. Or practicing her magic in secret.

One day she came back from one of her prolonged outings and searched for Gaius. She found him finally, on one of the balconies which overlooked the surroundings of Morgause's place.

"Are you going anywhere, Gaius? You look as if you had dressed up for a journey."

"Indeed I am" the physician replied. "Apparently Maddox and the Lady Morgause have come to an agreement. I was told we are leaving for Eire in the morning."

"I bet you'll be the only one who will be of any use to Arthur. The others could as well jump in the lake." She looked at him and saw him smile in his forgiving way. He for one had never chastised her for her hot temper. "I'll miss you, Gaius. I'll miss you terribly. It was so good to have you here."

"I take it this means you're not coming with us" Gaius said.

She sensed his disappointment and bit her lip. "I am not interested anymore in watching Uther suffer, at least not if Arthur has to pay the price for it. Or Gwen. Or Leon or any of the others. Even…."

"Even Merlin?" he smiled. "That's what you wanted to say, isn't it?"

She raised her eyes furtively before she looked down at her feet again and nodded. "Morgause had not asked for my consent when she made me the carrier of her sleeping spell but Merlin did not know that. He must have thought I had agreed to endangering Arthur's life as well as Uther's. He'd never forgive that. And frankly, if I had been in his shoes then and there, I, too, would have tried to kill anyone who tried to murder my brother. I cannot blame him for something I would have done without a second thought."

"And yet you do not want to be part of the great rescue mission?" Gaius still smiled good-humouredly but his eyes were weary.

For a moment she silently fought with herself but by now she had grown used to hold only her own council. So she only shook her head and avoided his gaze.

"But why, Morgana?" he insisted. "If Arthur still is a brother to you, why do you not want to come to his aid?"

"Because I am not convinced that this is what Morgause has in mind" Morgana replied coldly. "She told you that there would be a price to pay for her help, didn't she?"

Abruptly Gaius turned away and stared to the distant hills. He remembered this special conversation all too well. "Yes" he finally said. "She told me."

"And you agreed? You, Uther's most trusted, most loyal friend?"

"Morgana, I…" but Gaius voice faded away before he could go on.

"Loyalties are fickle things, are they not?" she said and he winced at the pain in her voice. "They're very changeable. When you first told me that Uther had sacrificed my father's life for Arthur's I should have felt more anger, more hatred than I had felt before but it was just the other way round. I forgave the King for killing Gorlois that day, but I will never forgive him for calling Aredian to Camelot, isn't that ridiculous? Do you know that at some point Aredian pondered to go for Arthur to bring the King down? But then he did not dare. Instead he went for you, Uther's best friend. And for me. For Uther loved me as best he could, as long as he did not know what I am. The King's love for me and his friendship to you were the reasons for which Aredian wanted to see us both dead."

Gaius turned towards her, his face completely aghast. "_What_?"

"I could see it in his mind when we first met" she said softly. "Uther had been foolish enough to promise him to pay any price he would ask for every sorcerer he would catch. Camelot is relatively densely populated, the witch finder could have made a fortune out of it, but there was the King who could have stopped him, delayed him any time. He had to break Uther without killing him. Aredian had the picture of Arthur being tied to the pyre ready in his mind but then he cringed back from the risk that Uther might love his son too much to give him up. And there were the knights and the army to consider. So the witch finder went for you and me. The fool didn't even know I really _have_ magic! He only thought if Uther could be scared and intimidated enough to turn his back on his ward and his best friend, he'd turn his back on anyone Aredian wanted to destroy. While our ashes were still hot the King would have showered this reckless murderer with blood money from Camelot's coffers, he would have showered him with a fortune for breaking Uther's heart."

She looked at the flabbergasted physician and laughed with bitter sarcasm. "Aredian was a fair judge of character, I grant him that. If it hadn't been for his caution Uther himself might have had called the murderer of his own son to Camelot, all for his lunatic attempt to eradicate magic from this earth, isn't that ludicrous?"

"_You_ have inherited Gorlois' special gifts" Gaius said. "You. Not Morgause."

"My sister is a great sorceress" Morgana replied, calmer now. "But a sorceress and nothing more. What I can sometimes see of the future and what I can sense in other people – I tried to explain it to her but she would not even begin to understand."

The young woman smiled the same way she had done in the last weeks before she had left Camelot. A trembling, halting and sad smile. "Morgause didn't want to hear of it. Apparently this special kind of magic would have made me an outcast on the Blessed Isle as much as it would have made me a leper in Camelot. Isn't that ridiculous? Wherever I go I'll always be a misfit."

"Morgana, child…." Instinctively Gaius raised his arms for an embrace but she turned away. Angrily she wiped her eyes with her fingers.

"But don't you see what this means, Morgana? _You_ are the only one who can reverse the effects of Yvain's tampering with Arthur's mind without risking even further damage."

"Maybe."

"Then why on earth don't you want to try?"

"Morgause has an agenda of her own in this" Uther's former ward replied. "And this agenda is not really congruent with what you might wish to accomplish. It is not even compliant with what Maddox wants to get out of this. And I am not especially partial to her agenda either. You do not follow my drift?"

Gaius shook his head despairingly. Dear Gods, she had changed so very much. This aggressive sadness in her was horrible to behold.

"It doesn't matter" Morgana said. "One thing is certain. Never again Morgause would risk Arthur's life. She was truly horrified when her last attack on Camelot almost got him killed."

"But if she can't help him regaining his memories he'll…"

"One Pendragon for a father or the other – what does it matter?" she interrupted him. "Arthur would live out his life as Yvain Pendragon's son and as the Duke of Cornwall. Not all eyes would weep for him."

"Wouldn't yours?"

"Certainly not."

"Only a few minutes ago you said that you had no wish to see Arthur pay the price for Uther's suffering. What about that, now? What about Gwen? I thought she was your friend. She and Arthur are in love, in case you have forgotten."

"She once thought she was in love with Lancelot. Maybe she'll remember him if Arthur doesn't come back. Who knows?"

Gaius recoiled from her as if she had suddenly grown poison fangs. "I had no idea you could be that cruel."

"Life has been cruel to me. One gets used to it. It can even become a habit."

"And what about Merlin?" Gaius fired the last shot he had in his arsenal.

"What about him?" She braved him well he had to admit but even so he could hear her voice waver.

"He'd never abandon Arthur, he'd stay at Yvain's court if needs be. Yvain obviously lashed into him before, this time he might even kill him."

She nibbled at her lower lip and for a moment Gaius thought that he had won. But then she found her sarcastic smile once again and he could virtually feel her withdrawing from him and from the closeness they had shared only moments ago. Something had happened in her face, some thoughts had crossed her mind, he was dead sure of it but what it had been he had no clue.

"You don't give up easily old man" she said lightly, carelessly. "But I fear you and your friends will have to help yourselves. Go and aid my sister in cutting her pound of flesh from the Pendragons' bodies, I have more pressing business to attend to." With that she brushed the healer's cheek with her lips and abandoned him where he stood.

Gaius searched for her the whole night but she didn't want to be found. When the three of them departed in the small hours Morgana hid behind the castle walls' crenellation and watched them go. The old healer looked back several times but he did not see her.

"Good bye, old friend" she whispered. "At least you will not have to pay more than you could afford. Nobody has to sacrifice his very heart for a service that can't be delivered."

For the rest of the morning Morgana busied herself with all the unfinished business Morgause had left behind. Finally all the instructions had been given, to the servants, the stable boys, all bills had been paid and all orders had been placed.

With a light heart and very satisfied with herself the young woman packed a few things and went to the castle walls again.

There she sat down and collected her thoughts. So Maddox had needed four adjacent jumps to teleport himself and Gaius from Massilia to Albion?

Morgana had set her mind on needing no more than three jumps to reach her final destination.

She succeeded.


	22. Brianna

**22. Brianna**

Arthur reined in his horse and turned to the knight who had command of the ducal guard on their journey from the O'Brians' estate.

"Sir Ian, see to it that our guests are comfortable, will you? I think we should make camp here."

"That early, Sire? We have at least three more hours of daylight."

"Is that so?" Arthur asked sarcastically. "I wouldn't have known. But I still think that the women have done enough. Eight hours in the saddle and the first five hours in pouring rain. Have you no brain, man?"

Hastily the knight saluted and spurred his horse until it jumped into action so abruptly it almost threw him.

"Idiot!" Arthur thought, and not for the first time. He really should have a word with his father on how to properly staff the guard.

Inwardly he sighed. This trip had been a real mess. He knew he should have had insisted on Brianna and her women travelling in a comfortable wagon but as always he had melted away under his fiancée's enthusiasm. She had been that keen on making this trip on horseback that he had neglected all his doubts and the wagons had been left behind. Now look where it had got him. A young Lady who would definitely catch the cold of her life and five sulking ladies-in-waiting, together with a rheumatic lady chaperon and two handmaidens, all soaked to the bone and bad tempered.

Women!

The Prince turned to his own servant to give him some orders when he heard hooves thump in the mud behind him. "Arthur, isn't this marvellous? Look, there's a rainbow over the hills. Come on, we've just got time to look for the kettle of gold at its end."

"Brianna, you're impossible" he said exasperatedly. "Everybody else is worn out enough to fall from his horse, myself included and you want to go off and chase a _rainbow_?"

Unruffled by his snappy tone she ushered her horse close to his, let go of her bridle and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Why not, Your Grace? It's what lovers do."

Arthur felt as if every man jack in their escort was watching them. Watching and sniggering, no doubt.

"Stop it, Brianna" her mortified fiancé said while he desperately tried to loosen her hands. "People are watching us."

"Oh are they?" she laughed. "You don't say!"

Before he could hinder her she pulled his head down and pressed her lips on his. Under her longing kiss all his misgivings were blown away. When they finally parted his pulse was beating much faster than before and her eyes glittered mischievously. Her fingers caressed his cheek while she brought her lips to his ear. "Looks as if we had already found our golden kettle, My Lord. Who needs a rainbow anyway?"

Giggling merrily she turned her horse and made back to her entourage. A completely enraptured Prince watched her talking to her very agitated chaperon until someone behind him cleared his throat.

"Do you want me to make camp now, Sire?" Arthur had completely forgotten about his servant. "Yes, sure" he now said.

Barely an hour later the Prince fulfilled his duties as a host and visited the female part of his company in their respective shelters. Dutifully he tried not to look as bored as he felt when he got the inevitable lecture from the chaperon on morally correct behaviour.

The evening found him and Brianna over dinner, unfortunately together with all the others. "Really" Arthur thought "what a stupid custom of the aristocracy to always travel in herds, like cattle."

The Prince's thoughts wandered back to past hunting trips with a very special young man and nobody else. Or to some evenings he had once spent alone with an also very special young woman. But he called himself back from these memories forcefully. They were both dead. Dead and buried and no fruitless brooding would bring them back.

The Prince looked across the table at Brianna's radiant face and his expression softened. He'd better focus on what life had still to offer him.

Arthur could not remember when it had happened but sometime after Maelfwyn's death he had suddenly known that his heart had not died together with Guinivere and the best friend he'd ever had in his life. It was a miracle, one he only began to take in and to accept, this new hope that reshaped his very existence. As she had said, there had been that day when he had lost his head over her.

It had taken some time, though to get used to this feeling, to being in love again. Until the impression of betrayaing his dead love had lost its bite. Brianna had been very patient with him, but she had sensed his opening up to her when it had finally come.

It had been the reason that she had persuaded her parents to allow their daughter and future son-in-law to precede them on their journey to Cearcean. Even under the close guard of her ladies and his men the journey would be a time of freedom, of leisure for the two of them before the multiple demands of social obligations and of etiquette would catch up with them.

So she had begged and flattered and pressed until she had got her will. Her father and mother would follow her and Arthur to Cearcean a week later with the rest of the bridal company and the trousseau.

Brianna definitely enjoyed this trip and Arthur felt guilty at the thought that he might spoil it for her with gloomy thoughts and depressive moods. He would not permit himself to dwell in the past anymore.

As if she had felt his look she turned her head and met his gaze.

Smiling, she winked at him and with a short nod she pointed to the tent's exit. He knew what that meant. When she officially retired from the merry company she would meet him outside and they would go for a walk. Alone. Unchaperoned. Naturally it was the most shocking thing to do for a young woman of her station but she gave a damn.

Arthur returned her smile and nodded curtly. He would marry this woman as soon as they returned to Cearcean, so why not?

At least they both had the decency of letting another thirty minutes pass before Brianna claimed to be horribly tired. She went out accompanied by a handmaiden she trusted. Her ladies-in-waiting had her permission to stay on, as always.

The Prince waited for another 20 minutes, to give her time to change her clothes before he went out for a short walk. Sir Ian did not mind. He never did. The knight had learned the hard way that it was no good to oppose this young man who apparently had fallen right from the blue into Duke Yvain's and Lady Lordegrade's laps. At least he had never heard anything of the Duke's mad love being pregnant.

Arthur met his fiancée behind her tent and it needed an effort not to laugh out loud. She had often worn man's clothes on these occasions but never before had she taken on chainmail, a sword and a dagger. She definitely looked like a young knight. Arthur had to admit that it suited her.

"How on earth did you get my armoury?" he asked.

"I stole it" she replied. "From your tent, earlier. While you were out, inspecting the guards."

"I'll kill that servant. He was supposed to take care of it."

"I'll have your head if you harm him, you cruel and heartless monster. You can hardly blame him for fulfilling my wish. He can't deny me anything. I dazzle him with my beauty."

"Do you indeed" Arthur said. "Maybe I should cut off more than his head then."

"Don't you dare touch the boy." Brianna cuffed him into the side with her armoured elbow and he pretended to buckle sideways.

"Ouch! Now who is the brutal monster here?" Laughing he ran away from her and she followed him in mock pursuit, yielding his sword in the air wildly.

They stopped the race soon enough because the chainmail was a bit heavy for her to wear after all.

They walked on and on, forgetting about time and place while they were chatting with low voices. About their future life, about their plans, about everything. Everything except his past. Except this other woman who had been killed when he had been freed by Yvain's men. Brianna had mentioned her once, to show him that she knew and understood but then no more. She had sensed from the beginning of their relationship that, if she wanted to have him, Guinivere and Merlin were not a wise subject to talk about.

Twilight had taken over when they finally reached a small clearing and suddenly Arthur remembered how far they must have strolled from the camp. He became nervous.

"Brianna, let's go back" he said. "That's far enough for one evening. If the others find out about our little walks we're finished seeing each other alone. At least until after the wedding ceremony. Your ladies would be scared to death if they knew what we are doing here."

"Going back? By no means, Sire" she said. "Defend yourself!"

She raised his sword and started a mock attack. "Brianna, no, please" Arthur said, louder now, but it was no use.

He evaded her first blow and decided to go along with her playfulness for some moments more. Maybe it would be easier to make her see reason afterwards.

The Prince turned and ran away from her, to the clearing where they both suddenly were bathed in the first moonlight of the night. Laughing softly she raised the sword once more against him and he pretended to fall down to his knees in fear. "I surrender" he said. "Please don't kill me."

Playing her role to the end she pointed the sword at his throat. He raised his head and looked at her, trying to see whether he might have a chance to persuade her to call it a day.

She smiled down on him, her eyes gleaming with suppressed laughter and a face full of love for him. It was in this moment that the crossbow's bolt hit her body and killed her on the spot.

Arthur did not get it at first. As if he were dreaming he watched her face change, the expression of tenderness becoming one of disbelieve, then of pain. She fell down slowly, ever so slowly and he did not comprehend what had happened when she lay still before him, blood dripping from her lips, her eyes already broken.

He heard the sword fall to the ground by his side, the dagger still in its sheath rattled against her chainmail as she hit the ground and still he didn't get it.

"This isn't happening" Arthur's mind said. "No need to get excited, this isn't happening. This isn't happening."

His brain was still repeating the same reassuring words to him over and over again when he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

The Prince looked up and stared directly into a face he remembered from his worst nightmares. The sight added to the feeling of unreality. Uther's men were dead. They had all been killed. They could not come back and harm him or Brianna, they were dead.

"Arthur, come on, we have to run. Come on, now."

The Prince turned back to Brianna. Why didn't she say anything?

"Come on now, Sire. Let the filthy jerk lie."

These last words were accompanied by a violent pull at his arm. Something snapped in place in Arthur's head and suddenly the dreamlike state of mind was gone.

With one single, swift movement he took up the sword and rose to his feet. Except for a soft, short growl and a surprised yelp the clearing was perfectly still when Duke Yvain Pendragon's son went in for the kill.


	23. Unlikely enemies

**23. Unlikely enemies**

Arthur knew that he was bound and gagged the moment he came to, even before he actually felt the pressure of the restraints.

For a second the gruesome feeling of being unable to move, speak or breathe freely dominated his mind completely. He had made a promise to himself never again to allow someone to do this to him. He began to tremble; bile rose from his stomach and made him retch under the rag in his mouth. Not again. Please, no.

Desperately he strained against the ropes, only to sink down to the ground after a brief struggle. No chance there. Tentatively he rubbed his cheek against the ground but the neckerchief that kept the gag in place did not budge an inch.

Finally he lay still and concentrated on fighting down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. For the first time he took in his surroundings, looking around as far as the ropes would let him move.

A cave, definitely. A peculiar fireplace in one corner. Something like a smokestack and an obviously man-made hole in the ceiling above it. From this and some other clues he gathered that this cave had recently been used to produce moonshine, illegal spirits. Why on earth would petty criminals like moonshiners capture a _Prince_?

The memories of what had happened came back to him in one single rush. Uther's men. The nightmarish fight in the forest. More and more ragged men with the detested crest of the golden dragon in a blood-red banner on their swords had sprung from the brushwood. He had fought desperately, not for his life but to take as many of these demons with him to hell as possible.

For Brianna was dead. Killed by the very same monsters that had killed his first love. And for the same reason. To get to him. Both women had died because they had been too close to Arthur Pendragon. It had been his fault. Twice!

He could not remember how often his blade had found its aim. He only remembered that the fight had been unnaturally silent. As silent as the night that had covered it from every watchful eye.

If only he had not allowed Brianna to stroll that far away from the guards, if only they had not made these stupid walks at all, if only….

The first dry sobs almost choked him before he could suppress the urge to cry out loud in wrath and shame. Why had he not died with her that night? It would have been so easy to turn his blade against his heart and press home.

Instead he had fought; outmanned four or five to one, until someone had kicked his legs away under him from behind, how he did not know and he had still been struggling against their hands, their attempts to immobilize him when one of the men had knocked him out cold.

And now it would all start anew. Doors locked, windows barred, his hands bound and guards everywhere, no where to turn. This time he would not get a chance to escape. He'd never see his father again or his home; they would take that from him as they had taken everything and everyone away from him before.

He did not really know it when he began to frantically fight to free himself, against his better judgement. He only stopped when he heard footsteps running towards him, coming closer and closer, shouting something to someone outside. Arthur knew this voice. And he had learned to fear it, more than anything else in this world. Suddenly tired to the bone he let his head fall to the ground and lay still.

Uther hadn't believed his ears when he had arrived at the hidden camp he and his men had made in the hills of Connemara. Weeks they had spent, posing as a bunch of gypsies and rovers, roaming the hills and villages, searching for some shreds of information about Arthur and now he should have walked into his men's arms, just like that?

"Where is he?" the King asked breathlessly. "If you have found him, why isn't he here?" His eyes darted around the place, looking for something he might have missed so far.

"He should have come round by now" the soldier answered, avoiding Uther's gaze. "We had to toss him up and stuff his mouth, though. There was no way with him, Sire. He went berserk when we came to him."

"_What_?"

"He didn't recognize us; that's what I mean. At least not as for what we are, his frien.., beg your pardon, his men. He fought like a madman. Marc and Brecan are dead, Gil and Myron are severely wounded. Some of the others have their share of cuts and bruises, too. And Sir Leon has a big gash in his shoulder. And he's still lucky, I swear the Prince was on him to cut his heart out, Sir Leon's heart I mean."

The soldier yelped when Uther pushed him against the nearest tree, hard. "Do you want to tell me that you attacked my son with a lethal weapon, that you risked to _hurt_ him?" Pendragon's face was a grimace of anger and the soldier swallowed nervously before he answered.

"Your son was not himself, Sire. I'm telling you, he wanted to kill us all. Sir Leon saw it, too." Better to let nobility speak with nobility. No need for a simple commoner being involved in such affairs.

Uther was at the end of his tether. "Where's Merlin?"

"With Sir Leon, over there, in the tent. He's mad at us, though, he…." But Uther wasn't listening anymore. He turned on his heels and ran to the makeshift shelter the soldier had somewhat grandly called a 'tent'.

Inside he found his head knight, tending to a ghastly shoulder wound as well as some more men from his guard, all looking at least shaken, all avoiding his eyes. It needed only a few seconds before the 'tent' was empty except for Leon, Gil and Myron and the confused King himself – and Merlin's curled up form on a blanket in a corner.

"Leon, what has happened? What does this mean? I can make neither head nor tail of what I've been told so far."

Alas, Leon could only repeat what the soldier had already told his King. While Uther had been away, trying to gather some information in one of the hill villages, they had learned that a company of noblemen and women was travelling on the road through the hills towards Cearcean, under the black banner with the silver dragon they had been looking out for since they had made landfall at the Irish coast many weeks ago.

The knight described rather vividly that the sight of Prince Arthur riding at the side of the escort's leader, unrestrained and armed, had almost knocked him off his feet. However, Leon had not suspected that this could be a sign of treachery on the Prince's side. On the contrary, the knight had assumed some clever ruse by which Arthur had earned his captors' trust as well as some liberty of movement. Leon had decided then and there to bail his Prince out this very night, come hell or high water. No one was to know how long Arthur's captors would continue to be lenient.

The knight's worst suspicions had been confirmed when, as they had tried to get nearer to the company's camp without being spotted, the Prince had virtually fallen to their feet. Obviously Arthur had made his own escape, albeit he had been pursued by one of Yvain's knights. In a forest clearing Leon had seen his young commander, unarmed now, falling to his knees, pleading for his life, but this bastard of a Cornish knight had pressed his sword against the Prince's throat. Leon's shot had killed the bloody rogue in the very last moment.

What had happened next, Sir Leon was unable to explain. "Marc, one of our soldiers, Sire, he went to the Prince and told him to run. His Highness looked up, but he did not move. Instead he stayed where he was, kneeling on the ground, in front of the Cornishman I had killed. Marc shook him, to get his attention and then…"

"Then what?" Uther snapped impatiently.

Leon looked to the side and pawed the ground uncomfortably. "All of a sudden Prince Arthur took up the sword, jumped to his feet and killed Marc. Cut off his head in one single blow. Then all hell broke loose. My men and me, we tried to disarm your son without hurting him, but…. Your Grace, I've often seen your son fight but never like that before. I tried to reason with him, but it was no use. He did not speak, nor shout, he only came for us, hell bent on killing us all, no matter what. You can see for yourself the damage he caused before we could….well, knock him over the head. There was no other way to take him away from there, My Lord."

The mortified knight wished he could vanish into thin air when he looked at the King's face. Uther looked like a ghost. Suddenly Leon thought that Arthur's father might know what was behind this. "I think these bastards must have done something to your son" he said tentatively. "To his eyes, maybe."

"No" Uther said, while he turned away from his head knight. "Not to his eyes."

Before Leon could say anything to that the King pointed at Merlin. "What about the boy?"

Again the knight did not know where to turn. "You know Merlin, Sire. His loyalty lies with the Prince alone. When he realized that we were going to force His Highness to come with us, he…interfered. As a result two of my men have a broken arm and another one has a dislocated shoulder. So I knocked him down, too. I thought to have a warlock bound and gagged would not be of any use, not with him needing only his eyes and thoughts apparently, so I forced one of the sleeping drafts I had in my bag down his throat while he was still paralyzed."

Uther's head spun wildly and he felt as if the ground was swaying under his feet. He had a pretty good idea of what Yvain must have done and the implications of this idea were slowly taking form in his mind. In his anguish he grasped at the most trivial piece of information, as if its sheer irrelevance could give some normality to this mess. "Why on earth would you carry around sleeping drafts in your bag?"

Leon looked to his feet, his face a hot red. "I had asked Gaius for them a while ago for…..private reasons and I had completely forgotten about them until this moment in the forest." Furtively he looked up at the King's uncomprehending face. "I fear I gave him the whole bottle. I could not think straight. He's still asleep."

"Well, if he comes to and incinerates you on the spot for what you've done, he'd have my full support!" Uther burst out. "Send him to me the moment he can walk again. Now where's my son?"

"As the man said, he's here. In the cave" Leon replied through clenched jaws. "And I would advise you not to untie him. He's dangerous."

Without a further word Uther abandoned his head knight and went to Merlin. He searched the sleeping warlock's pockets and took something out before he left the shelter and made his way to the cave. The closer he got the faster he walked until he ran.

Pendragon found his son by the fireplace that had been the King's sleeping place since they had made camp here.

Two years. Two years since he had last seen his child and now he found him like this.

Leon's men had made a very thorough job of tying him up. Arthur's tightly bound ankles had apparently been protected by the boots he wore but Uther saw the deep cuts in the wrists and upper arms where the ropes had lacerated skin and flesh. His son had tried to free himself. He was definitely awake; the King could see him tremble slightly.

Uther gazed at the other bruises on Arthur's body. Even without the wounded men in the tent outside it was obvious that his son had not went down without a fight.

The King's heart sank. So it was true. All the old stories, the rumours of some magicians being able to rob a human being of his memory, to take him away from his loved ones by forcing him into a new life. This wasn't a fairy tale after all. Gaius had been right, all along. The old healer had begun to hint at these old legends ever since he had come back from Ealdor but as usual, the King had not listened.

Pendragon straightened his back. He'd never been one who gave up easily. He would fight this. He would win his son back, no matter what and how long it would take.

With this heroic, if somewhat overambitious, decision in his mind he resolutely bent down to his child.

"Arthur, do you hear me? Here, let me help you."

The Prince winced when he felt his captor's hands on his face and tried to back away. As soon as the rag was pulled off his mouth he gulped down air greedily.

He was pulled up into a sitting position before the murderer actually took his face in both hands. "Arthur, do you know who I am? Do you remember me?"

What an absurd question. As if anyone could ever forget what this man had done. "Don't touch me!" Violently the Prince tried to free his face from Uther's grip. "Let go of me."

When he could not evade the other's touch Arthur glared at his counterpart with all the hatred and disgust he felt. "I said, let go of me!"

The King felt as if he had been slapped in the face by this hateful stare. "Arthur, please. You _must_ know who I am. Please try to remember."

"I know who you are, you damned beast, you've tormented me and my parents for years. But I will not be your slave again, you hear me? Never!"

Uther recoiled, appalled to the point where he began to feel queasy. For his son regarding him a stranger he had been prepared but not for this kind of enmity. "Son, what are you talking about? What parents?"

When Arthur kept silent but still gave him that hate-filled glare, anger built up inside the King, slowly but surely. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that Yvain's machinations were speaking out of his son, he could not suppress his irritation. "Damn you, what do you take me for, some cheap mugger who took you for ransom? _I_ am your father!"

"My Lord, maybe you should call for your old sorcerer friend" Arthur laid all his contempt in his voice. "I know whose child I am, but you are quite obviously deranged."

"Then who are your parents, huh? Tell me! Who are they!"

Arthur gritted his teeth when his tormentor gripped his hair and pulled violently. "I have known you for a traitor, a coward and a murderer but I did not know you are an imbecile" he hissed. "Duke Yvain will have your head for this as a present for my mother, as a compensation for what you did to her!"

With an angry yelp Uther used his free hand to pull the golden locket Arthur had lost in Massila from his pocket. It sprang open under his thump and he dangled the small portrait of Igraine in front of Arthur's eyes. "_This_ is your mother. Look at her!"

When Arthur tried to turn his face away Uther pulled harder, forcing his son to look at the picture. "_Look_ at her! And then tell me again that you do not know her. Call this lunatic old hag your mother again and I'll…..!"

Slowly, deliberately Arthur sucked in air and spat at the small locket with all he had inside him.

For a second nobody moved or said anything. Uther's face was as white as chalk. Finally he lunged out and backhanded his son's face with ferocious force.

Only Uther's unyielding grip on the back of his head prevented Arthur from tumbling over. He gasped with pain and his ears rang.

The King pushed the young man's head forward before he let go. "You'll live to regret this, you treacherous devil" the Prince heard Uther's hoarse voice whispering into his ear. "I swear you will."

With one violent tense of his muscles Arthur jerked as far up as he could, knocking his head against the King's chin with all the force he could muster. With deep satisfaction he heard a significant thud when the bones connected. Uther tumbled backwards, lost his footing and rolled on his back while his nose began to bleed.

For a glorious moment Arthur was sure that this would be it. That his tormentor would rise only to kill him; to end this then and there. A quick death instead of another long imprisonment, maybe a life time of incarceration and humiliation.

But Uther staggered to his feet only to look at his son's defiant stare in utter defeat. "Forgive me, Arthur" he said. "I had no right to hurt you. No right whatsoever."

He took up the gag he had put aside earlier and turned back to his son.

Arthur suppressed a desperate moan when the rag was once more forced in and tightly fastened. He did not hear what Uther had to say to him. He only knew that he had lost his only chance of escape. If this had not been enough to earn him an immediate execution, nothing would.

Uther stumbled outside, holding his face. His stomach burned. All he wanted was a bit of peace and quiet, to sort out his whirling thoughts. "Gaius, where are you?" he thought frantically. "Damn you, I need you and you get yourself abducted."

He stumbled away from the camp into the forest and slumped down in the grass, with his back against a tree trunk. There the gallant King of Camelot hugged his knees like a scorned child and wept his heart out.


	24. Capitulation

**24. Capitulation**

"You look a real mess." Casually the warlock slumped down at the King's side.

Uther came out of his miserable musings with a jerk. "Where do you come from all of a sudden?"

"Directly from Morpheus' arms" Merlin grinned lopsidedly. "Your Grace had given order that I should join you the moment I could walk again. I can walk again. I only stumbled thrice on the way here."

Reflexively Uther looked up and assessed the way from the camp to his present sitting place. 200 metres or 150? Only thrice! Impressive. At least for this Lord of clumsiness.

"You're all right?" the King asked, pointing at the swelling on the young wizard's temple.

"Right as rain" Merlin replied. "I have a hard skull. It's a necessity for Prince Arthur's manservant. Or yours. But how are you?"

"How do you think I feel?" For once Uther gave a damn about differences in rank or keeping up appearances. As long as Gaius wasn't around this walking enigma that had befriended his only son so closely against all odds was the next best thing to his friend, too. "Two years I've been looking for him, two damn years and now…"

"Arthur doesn't know you anymore. He even attacked you?"

"He knows me well enough, at least that's what he thinks he does. To him I am an awful villain; someone who has enslaved him before, for the Gods know how long. He not only fears me, he hates me. More than words can say. He even…." Uther pulled out the locket at its broken chain and threw it into Merlin's lap. "If you want to have this as a souvenir – its former owner isn't interested in having it back."

Carefully the magician lifted the little thing and found some telltale traces on it. Merlin took off his neckerchief and cleaned the trinket before he let the cloth fall down by his side. "I will have to wash this" he murmured while he stuffed the locket into his shirt.

"You know, this explains how Yvain and his helpmates have been able to achieve an obviously complete exchange of memories" he then said. "I would not have thought that's possible. When I read about this kind of thing back home I took it for an old myth, some madman's wishful thinking."

Angrily Uther rose and kicked the tree, directly at Merlin's side. "If you are done pattering you might wish to explain yourself before I make you" he growled, quite his old self.

"I mean, Yvain or whoever it was did a very thorough job but nobody could create a whole new life from scratch. Arthur isn't a child; he's had a lifetime of memories and thoughts to be suppressed. They must have used his original memories; they only altered them. Gaius had assumed that this would be possible. He said that once this had been rooted in Arthur's mind, his own brain would do the rest all on its own. Back then I thought Gaius was exaggerating, but obviously .

"Merlin I do not need a lecture in the possibilities or machinations of evil sorcery, I need a _cure_. This must be reversed, and soon. Another day or two, four at best and Yvain gets word of Leon's attack. His patrols will find us soon enough if we stay here. The next harbour is miles away and with Arthur virtually dribbling for a chance to escape, how could we go there without arousing suspicion?" Uther did not even mention the barbaric possibility to drag his son along in restraints for weeks on end and Merlin was grateful for it. However, unfortunately this didn't help on another score.

"I fear there is no cure, Sire" the warlock stated firmly. "I may have the power but I lack the knowledge. I can do nothing to reverse what Yvain has done! Not on my own that is."

Uther's temper had always been easy to prick but he was even more fickle now, with his heart aching more than he cared to admit. "Don't you play daft with me, you bloody sorcerer" he hissed. "You damn well know that there is nobody else to do the job. So you better remember that I spared you the scaffold for a reason."

Calmly Merlin returned the angry stare of the steel-blue eyes. He saw the anguish and the fear behind the rage, maybe because they matched his own. "If I tamper with your son's mind without proper guidance I might kill him or even take Arthur's sanity away for good. Would you want to drag a raving lunatic back home?"

Abruptly Uther turned away, trying to bite back an outburst he knew he would regret. It had been a long time ago that he had been forced to humbly ask a favour from a warlock and back then it hadn't turned out to be a success. The King's thoughts went back to Igraine's death and Arthur's recent defilement of her picture and gritted his teeth. "I'm open to suggestions, Merlin. And in case you do not know: Coming from a King that is another word for being helpless. And that's one thing I am neither used to nor do I like to admit it."

"Have you thought of letting Arthur go back to Yvain?" Merlin asked. "It's what he wants, isn't it?"

Slowly, very slowly Uther turned back to face the magician, his face white as chalk. "Over my dead body" he said. "Never!"

"Over _your_ dead body or over Arthur's?"

Merlin did not even flinch when Uther grabbed his collar and pushed him back to the ground. He had had this coming. But some things just had to be said. "How far are you willing to go in order to defeat your brother, My Lord?"

Uther panted heavily while he stared down at his tormentor. Indeed, how far would he go? If the price was not to be paid by him but by his son, how far would he go?

"What is it we are talking about here, Your Majesty?" Merlin insisted mercilessly. "Are we talking about what's best for your son or what's best for your pride?"

Uther wiped his face with his hand, as if to wipe away some cobweb that hazed his sight. "Get up!" he said hoarsely. He waited until Merlin had made it back to his feet before he continued. "As it is obvious that I stand no chance in this, _you_ have two days to make my son cooperate with us. After that, I will let him go. It goes without saying that this would most probably be a death sentence for all of us. So you better start thinking!"

Merlin silently nodded, took up his beloved – if somewhat soiled – neckerchief and left the King alone.

Uther made it back to the camp some time later and found that his men avoided him. Frankly, in this moment, this was fine with him. Merlin's words had cut him to the quick. Only now he realized how completely, absolutely Yvain had probably defeated him. Seeing his son after all this time, hearing his voice, feeling the warmth of his skin – that he should have lost him nevertheless was impossible to bear. But beyond his anguish there was something else. Nagging voices in his head reminded Arthur's father of the time of Igraine's death, how he had felt, how he had questioned himself whether this had been worth it, whether this tiny boy had really been worth his mother's life. Deep inside him Uther still remembered that he had never found an answer to this question.

The King tried to imagine seeing Arthur run back to Uther's mortal enemy, willingly, gladly, without looking back, the son whose life had been bought by Igraine's death – he envisioned the moment and his resolve began to waver. He wouldn't let Yvain win; he wouldn't let this bloody misbegotten bastard of a brother take this away from him, no matter what the cost…

"_Over your dead body or over Arthur's?"_

Damn the insolent brat of a magician to dare ask such a question of him. Damn him to hell.

Brusquely the King turned towards the cave and went inside. If this deluded offspring of his strangled himself in his restraints before these two days had passed, Merlin could spare himself the trouble of coming up with a solution.

Arthur had been pricking his ears desperately to hear a bit more of the voices which had bore their way to him through the hole in the cave's ceiling. At the sound of Uther's approach he froze in apprehension.

When his captor seemed determined to ignore him, Arthur let his back fall against the rocky wall behind him and tried his best to exclude his surroundings from his mind. But that was much easier thought than done.

Uther heard a rustle of movement, looked at his son from the corner of his eye and frowned angrily at the sight of Arthur furtively trying to ease the strain on his twisted shoulders. With his wrists and upper arms tightly bound, he hardly stood a chance. Damn the boy's stubborn arrogance. One should assume that after all these hours the pain should be unendurable even for him. Instead he kept up appearances.

"Are you thirsty?" Uther asked.

Arthur flinched at the sudden sound. Against his will, his gaze wandered to the canteen which lay on the ground a few metres from where he sat. The water could as well have been somewhere on the moon.

"Ah" Uther said as he followed his son's gaze. "I thought as much." He lifted the canteen for Arthur to see it. "I know you're aware of where we are, my boy. We aren't the only ones who roam these hills. If you scream for help someone might hear you. We'd all live to regret it, but you'd be the first, understood?"

Uther stared intently into Arthur's hate filled face and bit down the hurt this hatred caused. "Don't get your hopes up. I am not talking of a quick death. I know what you've been trying a while ago."

The King untied the gag and helped his son to some water. "Now must I stuff that thing into your mouth again or will you see reason?"

Arthur kept silent but his face betrayed him. Having his mouth free _did_ feel like heaven on earth.

Astonishingly his captor seemed willing to accept this for a 'yes' and threw the gag aside. "If you want to change your mind, you'd better not forget that my men would hear you before anybody else does."

Uther rose, went to a far of corner of the cave and took up something he had found there by chance when he had first inspected the cave. With curt, rough movements he fastened one end of the strong chain round the prisoner's right ankle, the other he secured on a small ledge that protruded from the cave's wall.

"You've come well prepared" Arthur said acidly, fighting the mortifying helplessness that was forced on him.

"No need for that" Uther replied. "Apparently you're not the first unwilling guest in here." Finally he cut through the ropes that bound the young man's arms and legs. "Better?"

Incredulously Arthur massaged his mutilated wrists. It hurt when the blood came back to his arms and hands and yet it felt marvellous to be free of the restraints. "Why are you doing this?"

"That's none of your business. You better enjoy it while it lasts. Try something foolish and I'll tie you up again myself."

Confused by this roller-coaster of unexpected kindness and brutal threats Arthur watched his captor leave the cave. The moment Uther was out of sight the Prince rose to his feet. It was hard to walk, to stand even while his limbs were still stiff, but he managed to stagger over to where the chain was fastened to the wall. Without much hope he inspected the locks, however he would have needed magical powers to break loose from this one. A brief inspection of the chain on his ankle came to the same result. Uther wouldn't make a mistake like being sloppy when securing his prisoner. Arthur's only hope was external help. Surely by now his absence would have been noticed, maybe help was already under way. He would just have to hang on a bit longer. Just a bit.

Suddenly memories of Brianna's last moments overwhelmed him, crushing his attempts to hold up his spirits to nothing. He just slumped down again and hugged his knees. "Brianna, I'm so sorry" he murmured senselessly to himself.

"Who is Brianna?" someone softly said. Arthur's head jerked up and he looked directly at the face of a young magician he had thought he'd never see again.

At first the Prince thought that he was dreaming or beholding some machinations of his overawed imagination and wishful thinking. "Merlin?" he finally asked. "Is that really you?"

"The very same" the warlock replied, almost falling over with joyful surprise that Arthur should remember him. Quite obviously Yvain had not been able to destroy this memory.

"But…you are dead. At least I thought…." And then Merlin had a premiere he hadn't reckoned with. Arthur virtually grabbed him and pulled him into a bear hug. "Gods, I thought I'd never see you again" the Prince said.

Merlin had often wished for Arthur to show his friendship openly, to stop hiding it forever behind banter and derisive remarks. Now, that his wish became true he was horribly embarrassed. Furtively he returned the hug but he pulled back from his royal friend soon enough. The Prince's for once blatant joy made it hard to remember that the warlock had to stay in a scenario he didn't even fully know, let alone understand. But all that mattered now was that this scenario was the young Pendragon's real world.

Merlin sweated cold at the mere thought that he might trip an additional forced shift in Arthur's memory which could cause permanent damage. The wizard desperately wished he'd paid more attention to these things when he had stumbled across them in one of his magic books. Instead he had self-righteously slammed the book in a far-away corner of his room, disgusted by the very thought of using this kind of magic.

"How come you're alive?" Arthur asked, still in awe at the sight of his friend in one piece.

"How come you thought me dead?" Merlin felt as if was walking on _very _thin ice over a _very_ deep lake.

"My father told me that Uther himself smote you with a mace during the last fight, when the Duke freed me from my captors." But then Yvain had told him that Uther and his men had been killed in the end and that wasn't true either, as Arthur suddenly remembered. An uncomfortable feeling of distrust crept into the Prince's mind at the thought of Yvain's version of events. Something stirred inside him, something with a faint, but distinctively familiar voice. However, it was quickly soothed by Merlin's reply.

"Oh, he did club me down" the wizard made haste to explain, desperately trying to play along with Yvain's machinations as much as possible. "But I wasn't dead you see. Only wounded. His healer patched me up afterwards."

"Must have been unfamiliar ground for this bastard Gaius, patching somebody up for a change. He's more the expert for the opposite effects." The considerable bitterness in Arthur's voice made it obvious that he himself had some unpleasant memories of Gaius' doings. Merlin's cheeks grew hot at the insult to his beloved mentor and it needed an effort to bite back a heated reply.

"Did he rob you of your magic, too?" the Prince continued.

"Did he what?" Merlin became more nervous by the minute. He was continuously losing ground in this.

"Merlin, if you had command of your full abilities you wouldn't be here anymore, that much is certain. Nor would I. What did these bastards do to you this time? They obviously didn't try the bracelet trick again."

"Uhm, no, obviously not. They, Gaius that is, used a kind of hampering spell." Inwardly the magician scolded himself. Hampering spell. Great idea. What hampering spell?

"What hampering spell?" Arthur asked awkwardly.

It went on and on like this. Never Merlin would have imagined that the much craved reunion with his closest friend would be like running the gauntlet. Slowly. And at least thrice.

All the time Prince and sorcerer talked past each other without noticing it. More than once Arthur felt as if a door opened ajar in his mind, a door to something very important but every time the impression vanished when Merlin did his best to confirm the artificial scenario Maelfwyn had implanted.

Almost an hour after he had first entered Merlin left the cave and met a very impatient, fractious Uther outside.

"He's going to do it" the warlock said wearily. "He's coming to Camelot with you, willingly. No need to drag him along by force."

The King's eyes widened in disbelief. "So you have cured him after all? I thought…."

"I didn't cure him, I baited him and I'm not especially proud of that" Merlin replied angrily. "If you order him to cooperate he'll agree, for my sake and for Guinivere's. I told him that you were going to kill us both if he refused you."

"Oh!" Uther's face fell in painful disappointment. He needed a second to collect his thoughts before he continued. "Who's Guinivere?"

It took the warlock a considerable effort to contain himself. "I told you about her, remember? Apparently Yvain wasn't able to go around the bond between your son and the woman he loves. So he told Arthur that Guinivere was dead, same as me. Now I told him that we are your prisoners too."

From all the implications in this treacherously short and simple statement Uther got only one. The King looked around himself, his cheeks hot and his jaws clenched in barely controlled anger. "Are you telling me that my brother was able to delete each and every memory of me, even of my wife, but couldn't get rid of the connection between my son and a _handmaiden_?

Merlin would have liked to scream, to lash out with his magic or to simply lie down and sleep. The one thing he did not want to do was to cope with these preposterous, absurd and utterly childish pranks of a rattled ego.

Naturally he did nothing of the kind. "_Uther Pendragon's jealousy is a dangerous thing. Always was and always will be_" Gaius had once said and since he lived in close proximity to Uther, Merlin had found that this was absolutely true. For the King, to love a thing meant to own it. What he couldn't control he couldn't love; the fear of losing the object of his love, to be left behind in loneliness, was stronger than his love itself.

Yvain had been clever as well as utterly cruel in his choice of means to defeat his brother. The King did not really know it but he could have survived Arthur's death; however his son turning away from him, this he could not endure. It would kill him and by sheer instinct he reacted accordingly. Heaven forbid that he'd ever see Guinivere or even Merlin as competitors for Arthur's affection.

"Your brother was _not _able to destroy the bond between you and your son" the warlock said. "If he had been, Arthur wouldn't remember you or Queen Igraine at all. To simply delete you would have been the easiest as well as the safest solution for Duke Yvain, but it was beyond his powers. So he put you in his own role and vice versa. When Arthur speaks of his father and his home, he actually speaks of you and Camelot. He just doesn't know it. Yvain could not destroy your son's love for you, he simply stole it."

At the sight of Uther's face lightening up Merlin silently thanked Gaius for the many hours in which the wise judge of human character had shared his insights with the young wizard. "By the way, Arthur is in a terrible state" Merlin continued, jumping at the opportunity to provide a distraction from the King's dangerous train of thought as well as to vent some of the real anger he felt because of his friend's obvious mistreatment. "I'd never thought it possible Leon would tie him up him like that. The ropes have cut open his limbs almost to the bone and his face is as much a mess as yours. Leon and his men will get an earful from me before the day is over."

Uther suddenly avoided Merlin's gaze. "Leon saw no other chance to bring Arthur here in the first place. And for my son's bruised face – Leon had nothing to do with this. When Arthur spat at his mother's image I…let's just say I overreacted."

The warlock snorted softly but unmistakably. However Uther let it go for once. "You say that my son will come along willingly now?" he asked once more, craving for a most comforting assurance. Somehow the King had a child-like trust that, once his son was safely back, in Camelot, all would sort itself out without further hardship.

"Yes" Merlin replied tiredly. "Of course it would mean for you and the men to go on playing the villains and for me to go on playing the hapless captive and hostage, but other than that the journey home should be a piece of cake."

"More like a walk in the park" the King said in a wayward attempt at humour but Merlin grinned slightly nevertheless. It was impossible not to hate this man but it was also impossible not to like him. "_What is it with the Pendragons that they can __make friends like this?_" he had once asked Gaius who had been stuck for an answer.

The warlock missed his mentor terribly. Gaius would have handled this situation so much better. However, wherever he was, he wasn't here.

"Yes, Your Majesty" Merlin smiled. "A walk in the park."

However, things developed much different from what they had planned. Considering the state of the wounded men as well as that of his son Uther decided that they would stay for one more night before they would make their way towards the nearest harbour. After all, Cearcean was at least three days away from their camp. Besides he needed some time to explain things to Leon and his men.

While Merlin did his best to patch up the young Prince's injuries, without using his magic, of course, Uther was driven to the outlook on the hill top by some inexplicable unrest. What he saw made his stomach turn.

As fast as he could Pendragon ran back to the camp site. Five minutes later a very confused Leon and his men were on their way without their King and Prince. Uther watched them disappear in the distance before he went back into the cave.

Without further ado he pushed Merlin against the wall, ignoring Arthur's loud protests. "Whatever happens, stay close to my son" Uther whispered urgently but almost inaudibly into the warlock's ear. "Promise me never to abandon him. Promise me!" With that he pressed something into the wizard's hand.

"What on earth…" Merlin whispered but he had no chance to finish the sentence.

Uther pushed him to the side, pulled his sword and pulled back towards his son as heavy footsteps approached them. A moment later Arthur jerked violently in Uther's grip. "Father!" And Merlin's heart sank to the ground at the sight of the Duke of Cornwall casually ambling towards his younger brother.

"If I were you I'd put that down, Uther" he said, smiling like a cat that has eaten the canary. "Someone might get hurt."

Uther hesitated for a second and the sword glittered dangerously in the light that fell into the cave, only millimetres away from Arthur's neck.

"What are you going to do, Your Majesty" Yvain said sarcastically. "Threatening to kill him? You?"

The King lowered his blade and let it fall before he let go of his son's arm. "All right, Yvain" he said. "You've won. For now."

"Not only for now" the Duke replied. "Most definitely not only for now, dear brother."

While Yvain's men dragged the King out Merlin gritted his teeth at the sight of the Duke hugging Arthur who clasped his arms around the man he thought to be his father. They said something to each other which Merlin did not understand. Then the warlock saw that the Duke turned towards the Prince's restraints.

"Let me, Sire." The warlock beat the older aristocrat to the locks by a heartbeat. He used the keys Uther had given him to open the chain on Arthur's leg.

The Prince kicked the manacle to the side with deep satisfaction before he turned to the Duke, his hand on the warlock's shoulder, smiling radiantly. "Father, isn't this great? Our friend is alive; he was only wounded back then."

Merlin's gaze locked with Yvain's and what he saw in the older sorcerer's face was nothing short of a hidden declaration of total war.

"I'm so glad for you, my son" the Duke said. "This time I surely thought I'd lost you both. If it hadn't been for me and my men coming up to meet with you and your escort I'd never been able to reach you in time."

Merlin almost vomited when Arthur was once more pulled into a tight embrace. Over the Prince's shoulder Yvain stared at the young warlock and Merlin stared back, smiling derisively.

Their fight for Arthur's soul had just begun. And the Duke was dead set on winning it. But then, so was Merlin.


	25. A sister's love and hatred

**25. A sister's love and hatred**

For the umpteenth time Pendragon started from his sleep, his body and sheets soaked with sweat. For a second he stared wide eyed into the darkness of the small hours. When he realized that he had been dreaming again he swore softy. But not softly enough.

"Arthur, what is it?" Merlin asked quietly, rising from the armchair he had been sitting in.

"What the hell are you still up for?" the Prince said angrily. "Can the once again mighty warlock do without sleep nowadays?"

"As much as His once again snappy Highness" Merlin chuckled in reply. "You seem to manage well enough."

"That doesn't mean that I am in need of a nursemaid."

"Do I look like a maid to you?"

"You _can_ be such a girl sometimes, Merlin!"

"Right now I think it's you who is being somewhat emotional."

"Oh, do be quiet, you pitiful excuse for a magician!"

Merlin sighed while he watched his friend jump out of the bed and beginning to pace around nervously. "Doesn't need my magic to see that you are overwrought and restless ever since His Grace has set the date and the method of Uther's execution."

"Imagine having one's own brother hanged, drawn and quartered" Arthur murmured. "Whatever Uther has done…." He shook his head while his voice trailed off.

"It was Lord O'Brian, Brianna's father, who decided on the punishment" Merlin said cautiously. "Maybe if you were to tell the Duke how deeply you feel about this, how much it troubles you, he'd postpone the execution…"

"The devil he would" the Prince blurted out. "To be honest, I did speak with him. About my fears that Uther's death might endanger Guinivere's life. He didn't give a damn."

"Strange though that Uther himself should have guaranteed Gwen's safety to you, on the condition that you are to watch his execution" Merlin crept up on his actual subject.

"It surely robbed me of my only argument" Arthur said without thinking. "When I insisted nevertheless, my father went nuts. Since then the door of this room has been locked from the outside."

_Damn you, start thinking Arthur Pendragon_ Merlin wanted to shout. _Why is this so important to you? Why are you unable to hate Uther enough to see him die a traitor's death? Why?_ But he kept quiet. The promise he had given to the King when he had last seen him as well as his increasing fear for Arthur's sanity let his courage falter and sealed his lips.

The warlock remembered his last encounter with Arthur's real father vividly. _I do not want him to come back to me for anythin__g but for his own inner wish and persuasion_ the King had said. _Not to protect this girl he loves, not to do you a favour nor for a clever ruse of yours._ Uther had looked pleadingly at the anxious young wizard. _I know it's a dangerous game, Merlin, but if Y__vain has taken hold of my son's soul firmly enough for Arthur being able to sit through my execution quietly then so be it._ There had been no need to say more. Nonetheless Merlin had understood the unspoken rest of the King's deliberations. _If Yvain has ta__ken my child for good what is there to live for anyway?_ The misery in the man's eyes had persuaded the warlock to even keep silent on his fears of what a shock like this might do to the young Prince.

"You haven't told the Duke that my powers came back to me after our return here?" Merlin now said, still thinking it strange to speak of 'returning' to a place he'd never seen before.

"Most definitely not" the Prince replied. "If my father knew about this, he'd not have simply given order to keep us both under lock and key together. He knows too well that the lock that can keep you is yet to be created."

With an uncomfortable feeling Merlin suddenly remembered the magic seals in the walls of Tintagel. So far he had not spotted anything like them in Cearcean, but, who was to know what surprises Yvain still had up his sleeve?

"I take it the Duke didn't agree with your plans to let Uther live?"

Arthur shook his head and laughed mirthlessly. "At the mere mentioning of the possibility that Uther's life might be spared my father threatened _me_ with a spell in the dungeons and _you_ with solitary arrest way up north for the rest of your life. I surely won't risk reminding him of that, especially not of the latter idea. I don't know why but he doesn't trust you anymore. He said you've spent too much time with Uther for his taste."

Merlin couldn't care less for Yvain's opinion of him as long as the bastard found no convincing way to separate him and Arthur. "What are you going to do now, Sire? Sit here as His Grace's prisoner until it is all over and Uther is dead?"

The Prince rubbed his face with both hands and sighed. "Frankly I have no idea. I do not even know why I should care. But somehow I do. Damn, I _do_ care whether the bastard lives or dies."

Merlin took a closer look at his friend and was alarmed. "Are you ill? You look poorly."

"Damned headaches" Arthur murmured. "After Maelfwyn's last treatment I was so sure I had lost them and good riddance. But ever since I woke up in this cave as Uther's prisoner they are back. And they are getting stronger."

It was that uncharacteristically, that very unusual for Arthur to complain about physical discomfort so blatantly that all of Merlin's inner alarm bells began to shrill at once. To hell with his consideration for what Uther might suffer, for what Yvain might do. He had always known that putting pressure on Arthur's instable mind would be dangerous.

"Are you telling me you've been in constant pain for more than eight days now?"

The Prince shrugged. "More or less. I thought it was due to the knock over my head, but now… You know, ever since the day Brianna was killed, I don't know what to think any more. As if white is no longer white and black no longer black. It's hard to describe but things seem to…dissolute inside my head. I hear voices I know to be unfamiliar but they seem to be familiar all the same." Towards the end Arthur's voice had become more and more harassed. Merlin couldn't remember that his royal friend had ever been really scared; not scared to death, like he was now.

The warlock saw his friend starting to sway and jumped towards him, reaching him only just in time to catch him before Arthur would have hit the floor.

"I feel so sick, Merlin. My head, ..it hurts so much."

In the next moment Arthur's knees gave in and he threw up violently. He didn't stop retching until his stomach had emptied itself completely. The wizard felt the other man's sweat run cold and his body tremble before it became limp in his arms.

"Arthur? D'you hear me?" feeling panic rising in his guts Merlin tried to lift his friend to his feet but when Arthur screamed with pain he abandoned the attempt at once. Cautiously he allowed his friend's body to gently slip to the floor and ran to the door.

Frantically he banged his fists against the wood and called for the guards to fetch a healer.

While the soldier finally ran off, Merlin returned to his friend's side anxiously. "Calm down, please, there's no need to worry. We'll just go away; it will be for the best, to the Western Hills, until it is all over. Nobody in his right mind can want you to witness this, don't worry."

The wizard flinched when Arthur actually managed a derisive snort. To understand his friend's low voice, Merlin had to bend down to him. "I told my father I would like to go away for a while" Arthur whispered "but he refused. He insisted on me witnessing the execution and attending the service for Brianna and the subsequent celebrations. There is no backing out of this."

In this very moment the Prince's body jerked upwards and he retched up again painfully, although nothing came out. Desperately Merlin held his head during the ordeal. He barely heard the door being opened for Brecan, Cearcean's healer and his new assistant, a young woman who had arrived in the stronghold only two weeks ago. The warlock found himself gently shoved aside by the physician and rose, shaking, only to be pushed against the wall by Yvain's reckless hand. "What is the matter with him? Is he injured?"

"Apparently His Highness has fallen ill, Your Grace" Brecan said quietly. "I can't say more right now."

Aghast, Yvain stepped aside and gave the healers more room for their work. Helplessly he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Usually every inch the well groomed, self-centred and supercilious aristocrat he now looked virtually crestfallen.

"What a show" Merlin thought bitterly. "One might even think he'd really care whether Arthur lives or dies." He watched the Duke following his 'son' to the bed, while a servant girl already began to clean up the mess Arthur's bout of sickness had left on the floor. Heaven only knew how Yvain's staff managed to be everywhere and always in place and time perfectly.

All of a sudden the Duke of Cornwall turned towards Arthur's best friend, perhaps searching for an answer to his silent doubts whether this illness had something to do with his machinations. If his obsessive wish to make his victory over his brother as complete and total as possible had brought this calamity to the young man he had come to love as much as Yvain Pendragon was capable of loving somebody but himself and Lordegrade.

However, on meeting Merlin's stare the Duke instinctively recoiled. The younger sorcerer's magic hit the other wizard like something solid, searingly hot, aggressive, vicious. "_I'll kill __you in the end for what you've done_" Merlin thought and Yvain could hear it as if the words had been yelled at him. "_Whatever you try, however you may twist and turn, I won't let you come for my friends again, ever_!"

Without even knowing it, Merlin let his adversary have it all, his hatred, pain, fear, despair and his overwhelming wish to return home with his friends in tow, back to life as it once had been. But most of all, his thirst for revenge, to make sure that this nightmare would never repeat itself.

Last time Merlin had felt like this, his magic had lashed out to kill the soldier who had murdered his father Balinor. The man had been thrown against a tree, never to rise again.

Yvain Pendragon was no ordinary soldier. His defensive reflexes blocked the unwitting assault before it could hit him. For a split second he assembled his own powers for an immediate counterattack but then he gasped in surprise.

"_Don't you dare touch me, you monster!_"

In his back the Duke heard Arthur cry out softly. "Merlin, no, don't…." and in Yvain's mind the image of the bond between Uther's son and his other half became visible; strong, alive, unbreakable, glittering in the dark storm of wrath, spite and rejection that surrounded it.

And for the first time in more than forty years, Yvain Pendragon, Duke of Cornwall, Master Sorcerer and Head of the Order of most powerful warlocks, backed down. "I never wanted to hurt him" he muttered. "I never wanted…"

"_A fat lot of use is that to him_" Merlin's mental voice snarled in his head. "_Look at him. LOOK at him_!"

The healer's head briefly rose in astonishment when he heard his Duke stammer something unintelligible before the elder Pendragon stormed out of the room as if all devils were in pursuit of him.

Merlin went to the bed and sat down. His hand, only a moment ago a fist ready to injure and kill, once again the usually friendly paw, furtively crawled into his friend's clammy fingers.

The healer shook his head when he saw his patient calm down under the touch instantaneously. "Astonishing" he muttered to himself. "Most astonishing."

Merlin didn't hear him. In his mind he spoke to Arthur and to him alone. For once he was absolutely sure that his friend could sense his mental voice, sense it and understand it. "_Do not fear. Everything is going to be all __right. I promise. Uther won't die and we will all go home together_."

Not too far away, in a tavern in the small town that surrounded Cearcean Castle, somebody was of a completely opposite opinion.

"And I still say it's marvellous, simply perfect" Morgause repeated for the third or even fourth time. "If Uther is executed at Duke Yvain's orders, Arthur will have no reason whatsoever to blame anybody else but his murderous uncle, as soon as my brother is his own true self that is."

"Which you have still to accomplish, my dear Lady" Maddox hissed angrily in return. "So far you have done nothing to convince me that you _can_ cure the Prince."

"You just wait and see" Morgause said haughtily. "I am not in the habit to flaunt my powers in front of others as if I were a Circus Princess." Before Maddox could say anything else she turned towards her other companion. "You of all people should be glad about how things have turned out, Gaius" she said. "Uther's ridiculously bumbling rescue attempt has brought your precious Merlin to Cearcean. And there's no need to torture your conscience further. Uther's death will be Yvain's doing, not mine. Nor yours."

"And how is this to be of any consolation to me, My Lady" the old healer said bitterly. "Whether my friend dies of your hands or Yvain's what difference would it make to me? And by the way, Maddox is right. As he promised Arthur to keep Uther safe in return for you and your sister taking over Tintagel and Cornwall for the Druids' sake, the Prince will keep him and all of us to this bargain. If Uther dies, Arthur will not be choosy when it comes to taking revenge."

"Himself included?" Morgause hissed back. "It's all over town that my brother Arthur will watch the execution together with the Duke from the highest balcony, every ugly, disgusting detail of it."

"My Lady, you can't allow that to happen" Gaius stated firmly. "I have no idea whether the bondage Yvain and Maelfwyn have enforced on Arthur's mind will stand the sight of the execution but even if it did – as soon as you have released your younger brother from this unnatural hold, Arthur will remember what has happened. It would destroy him."

"It's not as if he had had the power to change things…" Morgause began but the old healer shook his head in impatient denial. "You don't know your brother, Morgause. The knowledge that he had watched his father die would be the death of him. Or worse. Think of the revenge Uther has taken on each and every magician he could capture, for the reason of his brother betraying him and Nimueh letting him down. Arthur is his father's son after all. He may lay waste to every city, every stronghold and every living soul in Yvain's realm, from here to Cornwall."

The sorceress chewed on that visibly for a while. "Whatever you say, you will not convince me to risk my neck – and yours' by the way – for the sake of Uther Pendragon. I want to see him _and_ his accursed brother dead for murdering my parents and there's an end to it. However…." She raised her hand to quieten the two others "I have to admit that you do have a point, Gaius. We will deliver my brother of captivity and reverse this abominable mind-gag Yvain has imposed on him before the Duke can force Arthur to watch the execution. This way Camelot's Crown Prince can see for himself that there was nothing anyone could have done to save Uther."

Maddox opened his mouth to say something but she interrupted him brusquely. "And there's an end to it" she said. "Please don't forget that I could act without you any time, but you could do nothing to help my brother without me!"

Maddox gritted his teeth when she stared him and his opposition down but he kept silent. So did Gaius, albeit for other reasons. Silently the old healer took a solemn oath to see to it that Uther would live. After much self-torment and remorse, the physician had been willing to give in to Morgause's demands. He had agreed to help her murder Uther, in an 'accident' or a sudden 'illness', as the only way to save the Prince. But he had no intention of letting this abominable execution take place. Besides his anguish for his closest, if unreliable and untrustworthy, friend, Gaius knew that, other than Morgause thought, Arthur would never forgive himself for letting his father down.

"_Seems we are still in the same league, Merlin_" Gaius thought. "_Your pet Pendragon or mine – it's all the same in the end_."

Meanwhile Morgause had gathered, and with profound relief, that she had overcome all opposition from her companions. "Well, then" she said with an unusually friendly smile, "time to make plans. How can we enter the stronghold, get to my brother and bring him out without anyone being the wiser?"

They spent the rest of the night going over all sorts of solutions again and again until finally a plan had emerged from their deliberations. In three days' time, one day before the execution, they would enter the castle on Arthur's behalf.

Exhausted they went to bed; Morgause in order to find some sleep, Maddox to gulp down his mortification and apprehension of the repercussions Morgause's reckless plans would have with a jar of whiskey and Gaius to make some plans of his own.

However, when the sun began to rise and the first birds could be heard outside, they all had found a transient respite in sleep.

At the same time, Merlin started from his fitful dozing. He thought he had heard something. He pricked his ears but all was silent now. After a quick look that assured him that Arthur was still fast asleep under the influence of one of Brecan's sleeping drafts, the warlock tapped sleepily towards the door and tried the handle. As expected, the door had once again been locked after the healers had left.

For a second Merlin pondered to open the door with magic and sneak down his way to the dungeons to speak to the imprisoned King. Should he or should he not tell Uther that even the perspective of watching the execution was almost killing his son? Should he talk to Yvain instead, persuading him or threatening him into letting Arthur go away for a while, abandoning the King in the process?

Merlin was so engulfed in his thinking that he never heard the soft steps behind him. The spell that knocked him out he barely felt before his body hit the carpet.

For a while the young sorceress looked down at him, her face showing that she was in some kind of conflict. She even squatted down by his side. Finally she brushed a strand of black hair from his face. "Sleep well, you idiot" she whispered. "Why didn't you just _talk_ to me?"

At the touch of the other woman's hand on her shoulder the witch looked up. "My Lady, we have no time to lose. Is Merlin all right?"

"Yes, he's fine" the sorceress said. "Now, let's have a look at the other wretch." She chuckled. "Really, where would these gallant, brave men be without us and our help?"

Both women went to the bed and scrutinized at the sleeping man. The sorceress sat down and her hands found the sensitive spots in Arthur's neck. Effortlessly, gently she entered the Prince's mind. She found the vast, grey castle much like Maelfwyn had found it before her, a bit livelier, a bit more crowded and bit more solid for what Maelfwyn had achieved before he died. "Arthur, where are you?" she silently called for the young man's true self. The castle around her and its inhabitants seemed to blur, to lose colour and coherence while she repeated her silent call, again and again.

She smiled lightly when she finally heard voices calling for her from the vaults deep down. Not Arthur's voice, not yet.

She made her way to the dungeons and opened the door with a single thought and there they were, as Maelfwyn had buried them alive by locking them in when he had left Arthur's mind for good.

"Give me a bit room to work, will you?" the witch said gently to 'Guinivere' and 'Merlin', both perfect impersonations of Arthur's memories of them, and they backed away from her. Fondly she caressed the hair of the unconscious Prince in front of her. "It would almost be worthwhile to let you sleep" she whispered. "I always loved to tousle your hair when we were kids but you always threw a tantrum."

She sighed and concentrated, banishing all distractions, desires and memories she had taken with her when she had left Camelot from her mind. Gently, soft and cool, utterly soothing and comforting Morgana let her magic flow into her foster brother's mind until he stirred under her hands. When he opened his sleepy, still unfocused eyes, the dungeon's walls around her began to dissipate until they vanished. The two impersonations lost coherence too until they had once more become what they had always been; integral parts of the Prince's mind.

Morgana smiled radiantly when her surroundings took on the familiar appearance of the stronghold that been her and Arthur's childhood home.

Happily she gazed into her brother's face. "Welcome back" she said, using her last opportunity to ruffle his hair. Arthur smiled back at her, still somewhat sleepy. Suddenly his eyes widened; then they became wild. He bolted upwards and began to scream.

It was this moment of realization Morgana had feared more than anything else.


	26. Awake and the nightmare begins

**26. ****Awake and the nightmare begins**

Morgana shook her head violently, but it didn't help at all. She moaned when the nausea caught up with her and she almost threw up. Damn, she didn't have time for that.

Under her hands Arthur's sleeping body twitched and twisted. Her head spun even wilder when she thought of what his mind had to be going through in these moments. No wonder her mind had translated the impression of the joined consciousness' agony with screams and fits.

She almost bent over with relief when he did not wake up. After a short while his body calmed down again. Praise the Gods for small blessings. She hadn't really known what she was doing when she had cast a spell on that bloody sleeping draft. She had needed all her powers to appear confident and capable, for Gwen's sake, where in truth she had been completely lost in the woods.

"What happened? You were barely on it for a minute. It didn't work, did it?" Guinivere's disappointment was as hard to miss as to endure.

"Of course it worked" Morgana snapped at her maid and friend. "Piece of cake, really. What do you take me for, an imbecile? Do you think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Well right now you're suffocating your brother, My Lady" Gwen replied, still in the same hoarse whisper they had been using all the time. "I thought you might perhaps have a reason for pressing your hand on Arthur's mouth!"

"Oh!" As if she had burned her delicate fingers Morgana let go of Arthur's face. "Sorry" she added, to nobody in particular.

"What happened?" Gwen demanded to know, thinking that she might have to spell it out for the nervous young woman at her side. Competent sorceress, my foot. Her Ladyship was as nervous as a virgin in her wedding night with a dragon.

"I did it" Morgana said. Slowly but surely triumph ousted fear and apprehension. "I really did it."

"I didn't doubt you for a second" Gwen felt compelled to say. She wasn't exactly in the habit of lying, but if one worked for the nobility one better learned that aristocrats, male or female, sometimes had delicate egos which needed some caressing and grooming from time to time. But then, one could overdo things. "What makes you so sure it worked?"

Morgana rolled her eyes heavenward. "I'm telling you, his memory has been restored. He will remember everything as soon as he wakes up. He needs a few more hours of sleep for his mind to adapt and then he will be right as rain, you'll see."

"Are we talking about the rain in Camelot or in Tintagel?" Gwen insisted. "Must be confusing to remember two lives. And two fathers and mothers."

Very deliberately, very slowly and haughtily Morgana turned to face the other young woman. "He will remember everything that has occurred since the day he was born, Camelot, Tintagel, Massilia or Connemara. And since you are too much of a yellow belly to just ask me, he'll even remember you. In fact, he's never forgotten you in the first place. Not even Duke Yvain could drive you from his mind, let alone this little toad Brianna!" The sorceress snorted derisively. "Two fathers and mothers, indeed. Two women, that's what you really meant."

"That…that's not…..I mean, I'd never…."

But Morgana did not hear Gwen's embarrassed stammering. "Well isn't that romantic" she said smilingly, her queasiness completely forgotten. "And I thought Arthur much too thick headed to ever fall in love properly, except with his horse and chainmail, naturally."

"But what are we to do now?" Guinivere had no intention of discussing Arthur's love life right now. Or hers. Which were, as it was, pretty much identical.

"Now we'll leave and look for my beloved sister and her entourage. Sure as hell my brother will want to save his father's arse as soon as he comes to and corrects his internal Who's who. Do you really think he and the other menfolk will survive this without our help?"

"But we can't just leave him like that."

"Watch me!"

"But what if he's confused, you know, troubled?"

"My dear Gwen, my brother has been troubled and confused since he came into this world. And who is to blame him, poor bugger, with a paranoid know-nothing mass-murderer for a father? Still, so far it hasn't done him any additional harm."

"Shouldn't we at least wait until Merlin comes to? We could explain things to him and he could help the Prince to regain his footing so to speak."

"Ha ha" Morgana said. "Imagine our poisoner manqué waking up to see me into the eye, giving him a lecture in proper sorcery. It would almost be worth the risk. Almost!"

With that she took Gwen's hand and dragged her along and the door opened and closed for her as if there were no bolts or locks on this earth. At least not for a very competent and capable sorceress. Sis Morgause was definitely in for a surprise!

"I hate it if she looks like this" Gwen thought. "So smug and self-satisfied, like an arrogant prat." She blushed when a very disloyal thought struck her. "That way she looks almost like Uther."

The ducal daughters' cat fight, mostly verbal but including some harmless lashing around of magic, broken furniture and two embarrassed men named Gaius and Maddox, was in full swing at the other end of the little town when Merlin decided it might be time to open his eyes.

"That's what I'd call a good night's rest" he thought while he stretched his limbs. Only when his one arm hit a table and his head banged against the door frame he began to suspect that something might be odd. Cautiously he opened his eyes and found himself on the floor. Now wait a moment. That wasn't right.

"I trust your most magical eminence slept well?"

Merlin turned towards where the voice came from and spotted a rather dishevelled but otherwise perky Prince, bright eyed and bushy tailed. No trace of the former sickness and mental instability left on him. "Good morning" the warlock said, if only to gain some time to adjust to the situation.

"And a good morning to you, Merlin. I wonder, would it be inappropriate for me to ask you if you might be as kind as to condescend to rise to the world of the living right now?"

Merlin had no intention of doing anything like that anytime soon. Arthur was too proud and too well mannered to beat people who already _were_ on the floor. "What's the matter with you?" he asked warily. "Last night I thought you might kick the bucket before sunrise and now you are about to kick me in the ass just for the fun of it?"

"I know everything" Arthur said with a meaningful look at the locked door that was completely wasted on an uncomprehending warlock.

"I don't believe that for a second!" Merlin replied.

"Merlin, get up. There's no use in lying around in front of a _guarded_ door!"

"Oh" Merlin said while understanding slowly dawned on him. "_That_ door!" He scrambled to his feet and made his way to the other side of the room. "Ouch, no need to push me!"

"Merlin, I'm Uther's son, I was born in the citadel of Camelot and presently we are in Cearcean, which belongs to my uncle Yvain who had me abducted more than two years ago, now does that ring a bell to you?"

Merlin blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"What on earth was in that sleeping draught?" he finally managed to ask.

"It wasn't the potion, it was Morgana. Maddox must have found her after all. He once told me he would. Now we need a plan to get to my father and escape from here. Any suggestions?"

"I do beg your pardon?"

Arthur inhaled deeply before he laid his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "What I'm trying to tell you is, that, while you, the allegedly mighty sorcerer have spent your time either by telling me a bunch of lies or by having comfy little naps on the floor, the Lady Morgana, my father's former ward, entered this room and eliminated the faked memory Yvain and Maelfwyn had imposed on me. All we need to do now is to free my father from the dungeons before he is hanged, drawn and quartered by my beloved uncle, find Morgana and her companions, if she has some, find the next harbour, board a ship to Camelot and all that without being recaptured or killed. Do. You. Have. Any. Suggestions?"

"Are you telling me Morgana snapped her fingers and you got your memory back, just like that? You're sure you aren't more lunatic than before?"

"Merlin, please, what does it matter that it was Morgana's magic that saved me and not yours, we must find a way out of here."

"You are very quick in satisfying yourself that your foster sister, whom you used to believe dead by the way, is a witch."

"Actually I'm almost out of my wits with surprise. I can hardly cope and I'm not sure I will survive the shock realization gave me. Does that make things brighter for you?"

Merlin had an acid reply ready but he gulped it down when another thought struck him. "If Yvain finds out that he has lost his hold over you, he'll chain you down somewhere. We both would have seen daylight for the last time; that much is certain."

"As certain as death would be for all the others. Now you're getting it."

Belatedly Merlin understood that Arthur's sarcasm and jesting only hid his fear. The warlock didn't need much imagination to know what the first few minutes of remembering must have been like for his friend.

Dutifully Merlin racked his brain for a brilliant escape plan. But whatever he did, he was mercilessly stuck with one thought only, the thought that had occupied his mind ever since he and Yvain had mentally crossed their swords for the first time in the hill cavern.

It wasn't a very comfortable thought. At least it should not have been comfortable, for Merlin was no cold-blooded killer. But then, there had to be a limit to what people might do to each other and Yvain had crossed that border long ago.

The young warlock remembered the horrible waiting after Arthur's abduction, his encounter with the magic seals in Tintagel, the hurt he had felt when he had failed to rescue his friend, first in Cornwall, then in Massilia. The telling interior of the cellar in the French harbour. And most of all the blinding pain and humiliation of Yvain forcing his own mind on his helpless prisoner. The shock of this violent act had been enough to even break the magical manacles around a young warlock's wrists. A warlock that had felt utterly forlorn back then, useless, lonely, superfluous. Without even the comfort of Gaius' kindness and understanding, for the old man had been at odds with himself and with the world.

All their lives were in so many ways intertwined with the fate of Camelot and the Pendragons. More than they would care to admit. As a result, Uther hadn't been the only one to lose something indispensable. They all had lost so much when their Prince had been stolen from them but Yvain hadn't cared. Merlin had sworn to himself that the bloody bastard would never lay hands on Arthur Pendragon again! Never!

While his royal friend had been under Yvain's spell – literally so – Merlin wouldn't have dared to really go for Yvain's life, for fear of possible repercussions on the unwitting hostage, but now?

"Naturally we could always kill your uncle" the warlock said. "If Yvain, let's say, was to die peacefully in his sleep, you could just postpone the execution, send the O'Brians packing and travel home in style."

Aghast, Arthur let his arms sink. Now it was his turn to not see the obvious. "I don't understand."

"He _is_ your father's brother, Arthur. What's more, for all the people in Cearcean know, you are his only son. If he were dead, who should oppose you? This way or that, you are, after all, his only heir!"

Everything in Arthur rebelled against the very thought. A voice yelled into his inner ear that this would be wrong. And most of all, that he detested to hear such a suggestion from a young man he had always thought to be gentleness and innocence itself. The Prince would have expected such an idea from Morgause. Or from his father. But not from Merlin. Suddenly the returned memory of Merlin lashing out at Maelfwyn and the other sorcerers in Tintagel was very fresh and vivid in Arthur's mind. Such raw, blind power. Such indomitable strength.

"_It washed all over you, your body, your head and you didn't even feel it."_ Maddox had been that fascinated, but for the dire circumstances it would have been funny; the well groomed, impeccable aristocratic Court Magician in awe of the dishevelled peasant boy from Ealdor who didn't even know what he was doing.

"_We all dream about forming such a bond with someone but in truth its very rare. Being a powerful magician is like being a powerful ruler; it makes for a lonely life sometimes."_

Merlin was oblivious to Arthur's change of mood. The wizard bowed in mocked submissiveness. "Would it be such a sacrifice for My Lord Duke to spare the King of Camelot's life?"

"Don't!"

The sudden, sharp order made Merlin jump. "What is the matter?" he asked. "I thought... naturally if you think this is a bad idea I'd never...It's just that I have no idea what we could do to save your father."

Arthur looked at him and felt a bitter taste on his tongue. The wide eyes, the innocent look, the open face that always seemed ready to smile in the next split of a second. That was Merlin for him. And for him Merlin would always be like that, he'd never change. But to others?

Arthur realized he had a weapon at his disposal, intelligent, dedicated, inventive and unbelievably powerful. Surprisingly he didn't like the thought.

"You would do anything for me, wouldn't you? Virtually anything."

Merlin shrugged as if nothing could be more irrelevant than this obvious fact. "Yes. Naturally."

"Have you ever thought of murdering people in their sleep before you came to Camelot?"

"No, of course not. Arthur what are you talking about? We don't have time for that, we..."

"So that is what you've learned since you joined the Pendragons" Arthur interrupted him. "Risking your life to save our arses, albeit revelation of your powers would have cost you your life. Lying and pretending, even scheming other peoples' death, all for the sake of a realm that isn't even your home, for a crown you have nothing to do with."

Merlin just shook his head, at a loss of what to say. Helplessly he looked at his friend,hoping to gather some clue as to what this was all about from the strained face in front of him.

"So that's the corruption of magic for you, father" Arthur thought. "The first magician I ever really came to know, came close with and what do I have to see? That _we_ did a most thorough job in corrupting _him_ and his magic. All hail to the Pendragons. What a most glorious achievement."

"Arthur?"

How could a person with such powers ever look and sound that utterly fragile and vulnerable? Arthur straightened his shoulders and put on his most commanding tone of voice. "I have to give the idea some thought. If I decide that this is the best course of action I'd be obliged if you left the killing to me."

"What?"

"You heard me. But to make this abundantly clear to you: If my uncle should die by any other cause than my doing you will leave my service for good, you will go back to your village, you will never return to Camelot, we will never see each other again and that's final. Understood?"

Furtively, Merlin nodded, unsure of how to take this. Maybe it was an aftermath of the mental strain that had been put on Arthur's mind.

"Good" the Prince said curtly, dismissively. "I have no idea how long My Lord Duke intends to let us stew in our own juice in here, but we should presume that our time is limited."

Willingly, even with some relief Merlin got involved with deliberations of possible escape plans. Arthur had a vital advantage over his magical friend. From long experience he was able to put his mind at two different things at once. While he discussed different possibilities with Merlin he thought of the best way to kill the Duke of Cornwall.

Naturally there was no other way of saving all their lives without tremendous risk, without bloodshed and innocent people dying for a cause that wasn't even theirs.

Yvain Pendragon had to die at his nephews hands and that was that.

To hell with the consequences.

Arthur thought of Lordegrade and the time he had spent with his her. His plans for married life with Brianna. Her blood spilling over him after a Camelot arrow had taken her life for nothing. He thought about some days he had spent with his uncle as his 'son'. It hadn't exactly been torture. No, really not.

"_My uncle likes to have me around, I don't know why."_

There had been days when he felt proud to think of this strong, resolute ruler as his father. His father with the horrible fate. His father who cared for this insane woman of faded beauty more ardently than other men did for their newly betrothed brides.

No, it hadn't _all_ been torture.

To hell with the consequences.


	27. Twisted paths and all the wrong turns

**27. Twisted paths and all the wrong turns**

As it was, the two young men had almost two hours before Brecan, the Duke's healer, made another call on his most illustrious patient. His ears still ringing from the torrent of abuse by which Yvain had let off the steam Merlin's defiance and Arthur's sickness had boiled up in him, the physician was most pleased to see the Prince up and about, his former queasiness and agitation gone.

With a silent chuckle Brecan realized that the Prince was even well enough to intensely ogle the young woman who had come with her master. The Prince's companion, by the way, was giving her the eye too, and not a furtive one.

"_Well, if His Highness has his eyes on her, you'll have to wait for the leftovers, my boy_" Brecan thought with much spiteful glee. He didn't like this out-of-the-blue pet sorcerer with the exclusive claim on the Duke's heir.

Besides, Brecan had lots of experience in waiting for leftovers. "If you feel well enough, His Grace requires your presence in the Breakfast Room, Sire" he said most ostentatiously.

"Would you please tell my father that I am on my way. I'll be there directly." Arthur almost stumbled about the word 'father' but he caught himself in the last moment. It had to be. Just a while longer.

"Most certainly, My Lord. I wonder, would you mind taking this potion, it's renowned for restoring strength, one dissolves it in water..."

Merlin snatched the phial from the man's hand. "Your assistant can surely manage" he said. "You should give the Duke your message right away. He's not a patient man after all."

With a glare at the young warlock, Brecan bowed to Arthur and bustled out. "_Damned supercilious brat. Young upstart_".

Merlin tossed the phial on a table and made haste to reach the other room when Arthur and Guinivere hugged each other as if for dear life.

"Dear Gods, I thought I'm dreaming when I saw you with this idiot" Arthur said, breathless from their kiss. He still didn't really trust his eyes. With both hands he combed through her dark hair, cupped her face. "How on earth did you come here?"

"I had to make sure that Morgana was right, that she really destroyed this...this spell or whatever it was the Cornish used to keep you prisoner."

"You came with Morgana?"

"Yes, she picked me up in Camelot so to say, on her way here. She told me all that had happened. She asked me to accompany her and so I did. But until last night I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again."

He pulled her close once more and buried his face in her hair. It felt unbelievably good. Suddenly all his qualms of conscience were forgotten, Brianna, Yvain, Lordegrade – mere shadows, fading away. All he wanted was to grab her and run, run, run to the end of the world if needs be.

"Gods, I love you" he muttered into her hair when he heard Merlin clear his throat. "Arthur, I'm sorry, the Duke awaits. You can't afford to make him suspicious."

"When will I see you again?" the Prince whispered.

"I'm sure Brecan will grace you with another visit" Guinivere smiled happily. "He's very flattered that he was chosen from Yvain's healers to tend to you, of all people."

Arthur stood stunned while he watched her leave. He only stirred when Merlin roughly pulled his shirt over his head and tried to get him into a fresh one. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is and she will be an even more beautiful corpse if your dearest uncle should find her here. So pull yourself together and see to it that he doesn't, right?"

With an impatient huff Arthur pulled the shirt down, combed through his hair and hasted out of the room. Only when he was in sight of his uncle's door he began to feel apprehensive. It wasn't easy to deceit the Duke of Cornwall. And the protection he had had from not knowing his enemy was gone for good.

However, meeting his uncle proved to be a piece of cake. Yvain was virtually beaming with relief to see his 'son' well again. He was even happier when Arthur told him that he had given up his wish to leave Cearcean before the execution.

The Prince felt his heart tense up when he realized that the usually diligent, suspicious man for once was beside himself with joy and that it was the perspective of seeing his brother being tortured to death in front of his own son which brought this joy about. How could one single human being breed that much hatred?

"Would you excuse me father. I still feel a bit queasy."

"Of course, my boy. Will I see you tonight? Lord O'Brian is going to have dinner with me and he would like to see you, to congratulate you on your escape."

"Yes, sure. I see you then."

Arthur's hand was already on the door handle when Yvain caught up with him.

"Before I forget, would you mind accompanying me to the dungeons my boy?"

Yvain was already standing in front of the young man when he finished his sentence. With an inviting gesture he left Arthur no choice but to comply.

Shortly before they reached the cells Yvain laid his hand on the Prince's shoulder. "I'm pretty sure now of the cause of you feeling poorly yesterday. Emotional turmoil sometimes can cause sickness like that. Therefore I have decided to end this, once and for all."

"But I..." Arthur began, feeling his legs become weak beneath him. Yvain did not listen, he ordered the guard to open one of the cells.

The young man's gaze fell on Uther's lifeless, horribly mutilated body, stretched out in the dirty straw on the ground.

"I thought you needed surety that you'd never have to see him again and surety you should have. Why wait for an execution?" Expectantly Yvain watched the Prince's face.

For once in his adult life Arthur had allowed an opponent to catch him completely off guard. With a brief scream he dashed forward, fell to his knees at Uther's side and felt for his father's pulse, careful not to touch one of the many cuts, open bruises and other wounds which covered the King's body.

Surprisingly Uther's skin was warm and his pulse was strong. When the Prince looked up at Yvain, he knew he had given himself away for nothing.

"That explains a lot" Yvain said calmly. "Your little sorcerer friend's guilty conscience made him that aggressive yesterday. To think that he should have dared tampering with your mind on his own, almost killing you in the process – I didn't want to believe it until you collapsed last night."

Arthur's heart raced almost as fast as his thoughts. Frantically he searched for something to say.

"Merlin had nothing to do with it" he finally managed to get out, inwardly cursing himself the second he had finished.

"Then what happened?" Yvain demanded to know. "And when? Was it when you saw your father again in this cave or later that the spell gave way?"

"I...I'm not sure. My memory just came back, bit by bit. Maybe it was when you insisted that I should watch the execution, I felt something was wrong, that I couldn't do it, don't you remember I..." Arthur let his voice trail off. "_STOPP BABBLING_" he ordered himself desperately. "_You're riding for a fall. Morgana's fall. And Guinivere's_."

For a moment they just stared at each other, Yvain thoughtfully, Arthur almost choking with fear.

"Get up" the Duke finally said. "There's nothing wrong with my dear brother. The spell will fade away as soon as we leave. I just had to be sure that you would show your true feelings."

Torn between relief and black despair Arthur's courage faltered. Death couldn't be more awful than what was surely to come after this. "Why shouldn't I stay right here?" he asked. "Why not let me and my father sink and swim together? Saves you the trouble of staging two executions."

"If I had ever wanted you dead there would have been easier ways than dragging you from Albion to the Mediterranean and back to Ireland. I've told you before, it was never my intention to harm you."

"_You have a singular definition of what "harm" could mean_" Arthur thought wearily. "Leave me alone. If you want to kill my father, I know I can't hinder you, but until then, why don't you leave us alone in here? Just for a few hours, is that too much demanded?"

"I am not interested in a heartbreaking family reunion. Now get out of here."

The Prince shrugged and rose. Over 60 and somewhat brittle, but Yvain would need no soldiers to give weight to his wishes. "_This is good bye then, father_. _I wish I could have told you that I remember the woman in the locket now. Forgive me for what I have done to her."_

Once outside the cell, Yvain ordered his nephew to halt. "What was the plan, Arthur? I mean, once you had realized who you really are, you must have thought of what you were going to do?"

"And if I had, what would it matter now? You're the one holding all the strings. You tell me!"

"Isn't it obvious? If I tried to alter your memory again it would surely be the death of you. As I have no intention of letting you go, it's back to the cage, isn't it?"

"_If your uncle finds out about your restored memory we both have seen daylight for the last time_" Arthur had never known Merlin to have prophetic abilities. "Then why don't you call the guards and get it over with? Not all these cells can be occupied."

"You do not see another solution?"

Arthur hadn't the nerve to stand this teasing any longer. He would no longer play the mouse with the broken spine for this bloodthirsty cat. "What do you want from me?" he shouted "spit it out, damn you!"

"Ah" Yvain said, unruffled. "I had hoped that I could find a spark of life left in you. Meekness isn't very becoming to you, you know that? Now about what I want..." He smiled again, benevolently, as if nothing untoward had ever happened. "Frankly, I want you. You and your father, one alive and one dead, it's simple, isn't it? You stay with me and Lordegrade, without forcing me to chain you down, and your sorcerer friend will keep his life and his hide intact. What do you say?"

"We tried that once before" Arthur said, his throat dry and narrow. "It didn't work out."

"This time it would. There would be no Uther, no Camelot army to hope for and your friend Merlin wouldn't be away, safe and snug in Uther's protection, he would be here, in _my_ care!"

"Yes. Naturally" Arthur said sarcastically. "What more could he wish for? Or I, for that matter."

Yvain shrugged, never taking his eyes of his nephew. "And there would be this girl I saw this morning, crossing the main yard. I would never suspect that she may have come with Uther but she has a striking resemblance with this Camelot serving girl you were so fond of. From what Brecan says you noticed it, too. Surely she wouldn't mind, well, let's say brighten up your life? Of course, should she be any trouble we could get rid of her easily enough."

"What do you get out of this, Yvain? What's the kick? Dear Gods, two years, travelling to and fro, in constant suspense, what for? For the great achievement of having me under your heels?" Arthur fought an absurd urge to laugh out loud. "You sacrificed Tintagel for this, your estate in Massilia, even your best friend Maelfwyn. That's insane, can't you see that? Why not just cut my throat and be done with it, for heaven's sake?"

"You're underrating yourself" the Duke said. "I have hated my brother all my life but the only thing I ever envied him for is you. But it's not important whether you understand this. Your friend and the girl – they are safe as long as you behave yourself. And by the way, this includes you not cutting your own throat. Do we have a deal?"

Arthur felt all fight leaving him for good. "_And there I was_" he thought "_believing that I had any chance of sending you bastard off to rot in hell. To think that I even pitied you._"

Whatever his chances had been before, they had come to nothing now. Perhaps the Duke's loyal son would have found a possibility to get to the man's neck; Yvain's prisoner, closely guarded and watched with utter distrust, would not.

The Duke waited for an answer that did not come. A part of Arthur wanted to give the promise the Duke demanded, if only to be left in peace; another part still shied away from admitting total defeat.

Finally Yvain nodded, as if to conclude a friendly but insignificant conversation on some small talk issue. "Never mind, my boy. We can discuss things later. You may be more appreciative of my suggestions after the execution."

The Duke turned and called for his guards. "Escort my son back to his rooms. He needs to rest."

Without another word Arthur bowed and left him – and his father. Yvain turned his gaze back at the bolted cell door. "This time, dear brother, I'm going to end it. Once and for all. And not even your son will hinder me."

The said son was in for another unwanted surprise when he found Brecan bent over Merlin on his return. "What are you doing?"

The healer smiled submissively, but even his slimy attempts to curry favour could not hide his triumph. "He's only asleep, My Lord. I had hoped he would drink the potion to make it look as if you had taken it, it made things so much easier for both of us."

Arthur wasn't listening any more. His whole attention was taken by the small silver rings which once more circled Merlin's wrists. As if they had never been gone in the first place.

The Prince needed a second before the meaning of this hit him in the face. Now that he had at least begun to understand what his magic meant to Merlin, the idea that he should have lost it again was incredibly hard to bear. "I'm so sorry" Arthur whispered uselessly to his sleeping friend. "So very sorry."

"Sire?" Brecan apparently felt that these words had something to do with him.

"Would you do me a favour, Brecan?"

"My pleasure, Sire! It's an honour to serve the Prince."

"_An honour, Merlin, do you hear that?_"

With a will Arthur shook off the memory. "Would you tell your assistant that I'd prefer not to see her any more. Tell her and her friend to go back where they came from as soon as possible."

"Beg your pardon, Sire, which one of my assistants? The first one didn't come back from an errant and the other one was arrested by the guards barely half an hour ago. Your father's orders, you understand, who am I to argue with His Grace?"

Arthur looked up, directly into the repulsive, grinning face. The man's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He was enjoying this. Enjoying this unhoped-for power over an aristocrat he had considered high above his station. He knew exactly what he was doing to this young man whom the Duke's orders had given at his mercy for a few precious moments. He would secretly relive this, how Arthur had looked, what he had said, how helpless he must have felt. He would cherish these moments of a borrowed superiority forever.

Or maybe not.

Slowly, purposefully Arthur reached out, took the miserable little toad by the throat and forced him down to the floor.

The satisfaction he felt when the first blow hit the now fearful face was somehow...unreal, distant. There was nothing heated in it. It was cold. Deliberate. Like the satisfaction one might feel after an unpleasant duty has been fulfilled.

All his training hours. They hadn't been for nothing. He knew where and how to hurt someone with or without causing lethal damage. Back then he had avoided the spots he now searched for with his hands.

He had no idea how many bones he had broken when the guards finally rushed in and dragged him away from the whimpering healer.

Without so much as one question or comment the soldiers carried Brecan out and Arthur watched them leave, the pitiable bundle of human misery swinging between them.

He didn't hear the outer door bolts snap in place. He simply slumped down at Merlin's side, covered the unconscious magician with a blanket and tried to find out whether he was feeling better now that he had beaten the living daylights out of this human version of a rat.

To his most horrid surprise, he was.

"_How can one single human being breed so much hatred?_"

"You would have been so much better off without me, Merlin" Arthur said, absent-mindedly patting Merlin's back. "We breed evil, we Pendragons. And it seems to be contagious."


	28. Bad surprises

**28. Bad surprises  
**

Morgana pressed her back against the wall of the wooden shed as if she wanted to meld with it. She watched the events in the main yard, right in front of the infirmary with wide, terrified eyes. Briefly she pondered to use her magic to free Gwen from the soldiers' hands but then she decided against it.

Frankly, even after more than two weeks in Cearcean she could not even begin to tell who of the Duke's staff had magic abilities and who had not. If one had been used to think oneself to be the only magician in a big castle and town it was a bit confusing to be virtually surrounded by magicians in another one.

As soon as Gwen and her captors had vanished inside the stronghold, Morgana made haste to reach the infirmary. She didn't like Brecan much, but the man was a gossip-junky and he always knew what was happening, especially in the state rooms.

However, when she reached his chamber, she just glimpsed the seam of his robe vanish behind the doorstep.

Baffled, she looked around, at a loss of what to do now. Bloody hell, it had all been easy going so far and now... what the hell would the guards want with Gwen, of all people?

A nasty suspicion began to form in the young sorceress' mind. Gwen was a very pretty girl and the rumours she had heard about Yvain's guards...

"Like hell you will, you bloody sons of a bitch" Morgana muttered while she swept out of the room at top speed. Down the stairs, pass the servants' kitchen and down again she was in an instant, reaching the dungeons where she assumed the soldiers would go to have some amusement out of her friend, undisturbed.

Morgana almost stumbled over her own feet when she tried to rein in her own speed when she suddenly heard the voice of her brother. Executions? Why would Arthur be in the dungeons, of all places, talking about executions?

She stopped breathing when she realized that Arthur was actually talking to the Duke of Cornwall and that it was not a friendly chat. "_The things I learned while hiding from King Uther_" she thought, as both men had obviously neither heard nor seen her before she hid behind the nearest corner.

However, the conversation between uncle and nephew took her mind away from childhood reveries for good.

When both men had left she slumped down to the ground. Bloody hell. Oh, bloody, bloody hell. That much for Arthur's and Merlin's chances of escape, with or without Uther – not that she expected her beloved brother to even think of leaving this murderous scoundrel of a father behind – and with them all her and Morgause's plans. And it had been that difficult to bring sis back from the mount Olympus where her wrath had taken her.

"_So you want father and son, one dead and one alive, huh? Fucking bastard_!" Furiously, but silently she racked her brain for another plan to get to her brother, tell him some fairy tales about his father having been freed by a dwarf on a flying carpet or something like that – come on Arthur, let's just jump out of the window, we can always come back for Gwen and Merlin later, oh yes, Morgana, let's do that, it's not as if Yvain would skin them both alive if I as much as think about running away – No. It wouldn't work out. Arthur would never do that.

Morgana hated to admit it, even to herself, but she needed help here. With Gwen being arrested it wouldn't take Yvain's men much thinking before they had the idea to search for Brecan's other assistant. If one of the two women who had arrived together at Brecan's doorstep proved to be a valuable hostage who could say who the other one might be? And a search for this other woman would start where? If the infirmary was a dead end the search would lead the soldiers inevitably to…THE TAVERN!

The young Lady bolted upwards, turned back to where she had come from when she spotted the open door of one of the unused cells. Thank heaven. She dived into the horridly confined space, silently closed the door behind her and without another thought she called up her magic. In a whirlwind of stinking air, dirty straw and two very surprised rats she was gone.

"Where on earth have you been?" Maddox asked when he saw Morgana limping back to the tavern a bit later. "You look virtually foul."

"Thank you very much" Morgana snapped. "How do you think you would look after an attempted prison break, a teleport that landed you in a dunghill together with some squeaking animals that scare you until you roll from the heap and sprain your ankle? And then you try to make your way back here and land in a water ditch?"

Disdainfully she scrutinized the warlock. Impeccable as always. Half witted popinjay!

"Morgana, what are you talking about?"

Ah, Gaius. Now she had found someone to talk to in a sensible manner. "I have the most horrible news. Arthur has been found out, Merlin and Gwen are under arrest and I doubt that my brother has any chance of escape left; we need a plan to bring him and the others out before Yvain can do something stupid like vanishing again to the Gods know where!"

"And where from would you take this tale of horror" Maddox said, maddeningly calm and uninterested.

"I've been there" she replied hotly, before Gaius had any chance to add something to the conversation. "I saw the soldiers taking Gwen and I followed them or so I thought. I went into the dungeons and overheard Yvain holding a knife to Arthur's throat, in a manner of speaking."

"You _what_?" Morgause spat while she walked up to the group from behind.

Morgana barely restrained herself from hitting something. Or someone, for that matter. "We must leave here as soon as possible. They'll be after us as soon as they remember that Gwen did not come to Cearcean alone."

For once, she had said something they all could agree on and the next hour saw them on their way. For three apt and one ex-apt sorcerer, changing their appearances didn't pose a very challenging task and so nobody would have recognized the shabby pack of servants in the wealthy merchant family that reached one of the finest and most expensive guest houses in the town, telling everyone that they had come for the great extravaganza of seeing a man being tortured to death.

Alas, as soon as they had settled down and Morgause had made sure that nobody eavesdropped on them, she turned back on her sister, hell bent on resuming her former inquisition.

Morgana didn't even think of listening to the voice that berated her. "Gaius" she said. "I need to talk to you." She took him by the hand and they both went 'for a short walk'.

Morgause wanted to follow her sister and the old Camelot physician but Maddox stopped her. "Leave them alone. She's preferred confiding in him before. He'll inform us, if necessary."

"If she thinks she can treat me like some imbecile..." Morgause fumed but Maddox did not care.

"I said, leave them alone. Frankly, you do look like an imbecile right now. And ever since your sister popped up in here, stealing your show and taking command, you have also behaved like one. You act as if you would like to give her a good trashing while we all know that you are scared stiff by the thought of what could have happened to her and your brother."

"And now Arthur _is_ stuck in another mess. Morgana is rash. And reckless..."

"And strong and brave and self-indulgent and stupid and a powerful sorceress and dedicated and unbelievably beautiful. In other words, she's your sister in every way. And now we both go back inside, have a nice little chat by the fireside until they come back and tell us what has happened. Damn you woman, where would you be without me and my advice?"

"Back home" Morgause snapped. "Far away from all these madmen. You and my sister included."

Maddox just laughed.

However, when Gaius and Morgana came back, he stopped laughing.

"This is definitely not what I had hoped for" he said when she had finished. "When you told us that you had been able to break the enchantment on the Prince's mind and that Merlin was with him, I thought we were halfway home, but now..."

"Now we have no other choice but to cut our losses" Morgause said resolutely. "To hell with Uther and with Merlin. I for one can do without the man who tried to poison my sister anyway. I'm sorry for Gwen, Morgana but we'll go in tonight and take my brother out, with or without his consent, by force if needs be."

She had been prepared for some resistance but not for the storm that broke loose now. Gaius for one was not willing to, putting it gently, leave Uther behind and he most definitely was not willing to go without his ward. Maddox and Morgana agreed with him wholeheartedly, if only for Arthur's sake and for what the Prince would do, should they be responsible for the loss of virtually everybody he'd ever cherished.

The row became worse by the minute as Morgause was not willing to give in and finally Maddox had to shout to stop it. "We are splitting hairs here and they aren't even ours! I'll go in and bring us some more information before we all lose our heads for good."

For a second, they all looked at him, dumbfounded by him suddenly giving up his constantly amused, remote attitude and taking command.

"Morgana and I will go back to the castle tomorrow, to gather more information" Maddox continued more quietly now. "We must know where and how Arthur and the others are kept. Are they together or kept separated, for a start. How many guards. Can they move or are they constrained. We have to know such things."

Morgause looked from Morgana to Maddox and back and felt idiotically left out. "Why shouldn't I..." she began to say when Maddox interrupted her. "Morgana has been in the castle, you haven't."

"Why wait for tomorrow?" Morgana wanted to know. "We could go back to the castle right now."

"Two furtively moving people in the dark make other people suspicious, two people moving around freely in broad daylight when the stronghold is bursting with activity are the most normal thing in the world" Maddox replied. "Especially if I do no longer look like Maddox and you, my dear, will no longer look like the beautiful young Lady you are."

Reflexively, out of a life long habit, Morgana returned the compliment with a radiant and definitely seductive smile that cut into her elder sister like a knife.

"Always the spy" Morgause said acidly. "The _leopard_ cannot change its spots."

"If you knew how right you are." Maddox was clearly angry now.

"I for one are perfectly content with this plan" Gaius said and rose. "I don't know why, but my appetite has deserted me. I think I'll turn in early tonight. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Without as much as looking at his companions he made his way to his bedroom. "Half brained young puppies" he muttered under his breath. "They'll be the death of me yet."

When Maddox and Morgana took their leave of a very worried Morgause on the next morning, Gaius was nowhere to be found. The landlady said the old 'gentleman' had gone for a walk in the very early morning, saying that he could find no sleep.

The old physician joined them only in the evening, after the young Lady and her companion had returned. He gave no word of explanation as to his whereabouts and doings and nobody asked him. Because the two scouts had no good news to share.

"Arthur is kept in complete isolation until the execution" Maddox said. "Only Yvain and one of the healers have access to him."

"Is he injured?" Gaius demanded to know immediately. "Why the healer?"

"The Duke needed an explanation as to why he should keep his own son under lock and key. He could hardly explain to people, especially to his much appreciated ally O'Brian, that he has stolen his heir from another realm. So he has it spread that Arthur has inherited some of his 'mother' Lordegrade's mental affliction and that the 'inclination' has become more virulent, triggered by recent events. It also was the explanation for having Merlin separated from his master. As to Gwen, the official reason for her arrest is an alleged theft."

"Does anyone believe this nonsense of Arthur being insane?" Morgause asked. "Surely people can't be that daft?"

"Why shouldn't they believe it? If they have seen Arthur at all, it was from a distance, except for the knights and soldiers. And from all what I've heard so far they don't like him very much. Yvain mostly relies on his sorcerers; he keeps the knights for appearances and some occasional dirty work only. Until Arthur came, they had an easy life on a good salary."

"Besides, Arthur has played into his uncle's hands" Morgana added. "Apparently he beat the living daylight out of Brecan, for no obvious reason. Brianna has been murdered, their Prince abducted and tortured by his former captor, saved by a hair's breadth only - from where most of the people are standing, it all fits perfectly."

"Where are they kept?" Gaius asked.

"I could identify Arthur's quarters but he's too strictly guarded, I couldn't risk blow our covers by trying to go in. As for the other two – I have no idea whatsoever." Maddox didn't look too comfortable when he had to admit he had been only partly successful.

"So what have we gained by this little detour of espionage." Morgause could hardly hide her satisfaction. "Let me see - nothing? We still stand where we have been yesterday."

"Not quite" Gaius said. "We know now for sure that we do not have another choice but to wait for the execution before we launch our rescue attempt."

"Oh, great" Morgause said. "You are in it for contradicting yourself, aren't you? It was, correct me from wrong, your advice never to let it come to Uther dying in front of his son's eyes?"

"Nobody is talking about letting anyone die" Gaius said. "But as it is, only the execution will bring them all together. I think we can assume that Yvain, in his own peculiar way, has taken a liking to Arthur, otherwise the Prince would have died months ago. But this affection will not prevent the Duke from showing his nephew once and for all that Arthur has left no other place to turn to than Cearcean and Yvain. He can't have him trussed up for this public occasion so he will have him guarded but it would be useful to have another hold over him. So I think we can also assume that the two hostages will at least be close. Can you follow my drift or is this too difficult for you to comprehend?"

"So we will go there, pull our swords, defeat Yvain's whole guard, cut them all lose and make a run for it? We and which army?" This didn't even convince Gorlois' younger daughter.

"You may at least count on me and my men My Lady."

They all blinked when the knight who had only now entered the room pulled back his hood.

"I found this young man in the town, as I had hoped" Gaius said before one of the others had found back his or her voice. "I had thought that Uther might have conjured up some brazen last minute rescue plan and so it was."

With two long strides the knight was with Morgana, bowed and kissed her hand. "I could hardly believe it when Gaius told me that you are here, My Lady" the knight said. "It was hard to stomach that you and your ….special abilities are here, alive and well, to aid us in our struggle."

"The feeling is mutual, Sir Leon" Morgana replied. Without loosing her footing again she resumed the attitude of a great Lady in the court; presented her sister and Maddox as if them meeting Camelot's head knight was the most natural thing in the world before she most haughtily asked the young warrior to take a seat and to inform her about 'His Majesty's orders'.

The onlookers, except Gaius, were even more baffled when Leon reacted to this behaviour, quite naturally beginning to report to her as if he was speaking to a well known superior.

"The King ordered us to stay near, as a kind of reserve for a last minute rescue attempt. He gambled on Yvain being too preoccupied with killing him to keep his guard up or to pursue us. My men and I, those who aren't wounded that is, have seeped into the town over the last few days, to be in place for the execution."

"Whatever for?" Morgause asked. "Surely you're only a handful of men?"

The knight shrugged. "King Uther had hoped that seeing the execution would break the enchantment on Prince Arthur's mind. I have expressed orders to take the Prince out at the first sign of resistance against Yvain. His Majesty trusted Merlin to take it from there if necessary."

"But that's insane" Maddox stated. "You all will be killed. They may be only part time soldiers at best but even so they vastly outnumber you. You're no match for Yvain's guard."

"But Merlin and Arthur would most probably have made it. Uther is like that. He may be many things but he isn't a coward. Never was and never will be."

Morgause snorted. "You'd find something in anything if it came to defending your dear friend Uther, wouldn't you Gaius. But surely you have let Sir Leon in on recent developments?"

"Indeed he has, Your Grace" Sir Leon answered instead of the healer, granting Morgause the title that was, at least in his opinion, due to a former Duke of Cornwall's eldest child. "Now that the Prince is himself again, things should be much easier."

"There's still the little problem that Prince Arthur and Merlin will attend the execution as strictly guarded captives." Maddox gave Gaius a pointed look. "I think we can assume that Merlin has been incapacitated before he was arrested, otherwise Yvain's little game would hardly work."

Leon looked dumbfounded, Morgause triumphant and Morgana anxious. However, Gaius, usually the one most easy to read, showed no reaction at all.

"Anyway" Maddox continued, never taking his eyes from the old physician. "There's not much use in further talk. The execution is scheduled for tomorrow. So far Sir Leon's plan is the only one with at least a slim chance of achieving something, now that he has us to join him. So I say we join tomorrow's crowd and try our best to bring as many of the prisoners out as we possibly can, making the two Pendragons and Merlin our priorities."

They all nodded very convincingly. They all had their fingers crossed behind their backs. Maddox was no mind reader but even so he could have told for each and every one of them what they were thinking right now:

Morgause had no intention of letting Uther _or_ Merlin come out of this alive.

Morgana would fight like hell for her brother and his young magician, after that, if possible, for her friend Gwen.

Sir Leon would be after his Prince and King and to hell with all the others, including himself and his men.

Doubtlessly Uther himself, should he at any time join the fight, would care only for his son, while Arthur would fight for Guinivere and his friend Merlin even harder than for his father.

Only Gaius' objectives were somewhat of a mystery to the younger warlock.

"_Great_" Maddox thought. "_And to think that I once believed if I was to go into battle, I would do it with a bunch of people who were at least of the same mind_!"

Yvain's former master spy smiled radiantly at his companions. "Fine!" he said "I see we're all in an agreement now."


	29. Subterfuge and other games

**A/N:** I promise, this story will end eventually. It's not this chapter but we are definitely coming closer.

I corrected some spelling/language mistakes in chapter 25 and 26, so please do not fret about finding two older chapters in your E-Mail accounts.

One reminder on my own behalf: I could use some reviews on this. My statistics keep telling me that people still like to read the story but I hardly get any feedback. Are you all desperate to see it finished or what? Seriously, I'd like some more feedback. Thanks to all who reviewed so far and would you please go through the procedure again?

**29. Subterfuge and other games**

As soon as the others had left, allegedly to find some rest before tomorrow's tribulations, Maddox grabbed Gaius' wrist and kept him from leaving. "Would you mind telling me what you are really after?" the warlock hissed. "Don't try to tell me that you believe in anything I said."

"Let go of my arm" Gaius replied sternly. "You're twisting it."

When Maddox had let go the physician straightened his robe. "It's just as well that you're bringing it up, I wanted to ask you to do me a favour."

"What?"

"Would you take me inside Cearcean? I need to see the Lady Lordegrade."

If Gaius had said he wanted to free them all by singing a-doo-daa Maddox could not have been more surprised. "What ever for?"

"That's my affair!"

The spy pondered that curt answer for a moment. He knew from long professional experience when a man was willing to spill the beans and when no power on earth would make him talk.

"Very well" Maddox said. "But we have to take Morgana with us, without Morgause's knowledge."

"Under no circumstances I will allow you to take the child into such danger again."

"Gaius, someone will have to bring you out again after you've finished whatever you are going to do with the mad old hag."

"Actually I thought you'd oblige me. Or don't you take on round trips?"

"I was going to visit Cearcean again tonight anyway but I do not plan to come back. So bringing you out would be Morgana's task."

Gaius scrutinized him for a moment. "What has become of 'people in the dark and people in broad daylight'?"

"As I said, the execution is tomorrow. It's tonight or never for both of us."

Gaius grinned and Maddox found this sarcastic smile an unwelcome sight in this usually kind and comforting face. "All right" the physician agreed. "I think we both plan to do something that's best left in the dark. As long as you do not mind my business, I won't mind yours."

Therefore, in the last hours of dusk, Morgana and Gaius, hidden inside two of Cearcean's healers' cloaks and Maddox posing once more as a half inebriated soldier, were already inside the main gates of the castle. From there they made their way to the women's quarters where Yvain had reserved the most splendid rooms for his beloved.

With a short good-bye, Maddox took his leave while Morgana firmly took Gaius' arm and pushed him forward.

Safe behind a broad door frame she looked out for the soldiers that she expected to guard the entrance, surprised to see only one young man leaning his back against the wall, obviously half asleep with boredom.

And then Gorlois' younger daughter had one of her spontaneous hunches, one of the sort Morgause would call irrational and idiotic.

Morgana knew that. And yet, she could not resist. The young guard looked just so foolish and sheepish, she'd be damned if he had magic.

"Piece of cake" Morgana whispered to Gaius.

The young Lady rose, straightened her body. A short, silent flash of her eyes took care of her dress. With her most radiant smile she peeped around the corner, directly at the young soldier. "Yoo-hoo."

"Halt. Who are you!" He snapped to alertness and aimed his pike at the most dreadful enemy who might hide behind that wall.

She flinched away in mocked fear, making sure that her cleavage was in full sight. "Oih, is your other lance as long as this one?" She skipped back towards him.

"_Great_" she thought when she saw him looking around as if he was looking for this other lance she was talking about "_just what I needed. A bloody virgin!_"

She reached for the soft black lock above his ear and fondled it, sporting her best pout. Even Arthur had once admitted that it showed off her lips most attractively. "You know, all the other girls are down in the hall, having pleasure with your comrades, only I am all alone."

"How much?" he asked bluntly, catching her hand.

"_Not so virginal after all_" she silently stated. "Five silver coins" she said. "It's not too much for one like me, you'll see." With that she bent over him as if to kiss him and caught him gently when her sleeping spell knocked him out cold.

"If only I had learned how to cast this spell from a distance" she giggled at the baffled healer. "Dear Gods, why must all soldiers stink that badly?"

She found the ring with the keys at the soldier's waist and the third key she tried opened the door for her. "I really should have learned this lock-picking trick, too."

Gaius rolled his eyes punitively. They slipped inside and Morgana locked the door. Even if someone was to find the unconscious soldier, this would give them a few more minutes.

"I'll wait here, in case someone tries to break the door" she whispered but Gaius didn't listen. The physician strode through the small antechamber impatiently until he reached the main room.

He stopped abruptly and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Lordegrade was seated at a small playing table, absent mindedly sorting out some cards while the young man who had been sitting opposite her slowly rose.

"Gaius" Arthur whispered. "Gaius, is that you?"

The healer stood stunned. He had played this through in his mind a dozen times but he hadn't thought of this. "Sire, how on earth did you come here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing" the Prince said, still looking as if he was beholding some apparition. This impression perfectly fitted with the fantastic, surreal scenery that surrounded him. "You, Morgana, Merlin, you go on popping up and disappearing again, like ghosts from the past. And I…."

"The past is always part of the presence. I've told you so, my son."

Gaius was startled by the sound of Lordegrade's voice. From his last encounter with her, in Tintagel, he didn't remember it as strong and authoritative as she was speaking now. "I think there's someone at the door who would like to see you but not me. She's rather anxious about you. Don't let her wait!"

Arthur's confused gaze flickered from her back to Gaius and the healer silently mouthed 'Morgana'. He could see that Arthur pulled himself together but to his astonishment the Prince did not immediately run to his foster sister or burst into another heap of questions but he went down on one knee, taking Lordegrade's hand. "You shouldn't say such things, mother, you could aggravate my father when he comes back for us in the morning. Please forget all about these people, will you, please?"

"You're talking nonsense, my son" she replied. "The man is to die tomorrow. Why should I speak to him about unimportant things before that? We'll have all the time to talk after our deaths, won't we?"

Gaius felt with his young Lord when Arthur recoiled from her. His own stomach twisted as she now turned her unnaturally large green eyes to him. "Gaius" she said. "How nice of you to visit us. I should have known it would be you. Now let these two young people have a nice little chat of their own and the two of us can finally attend to this business we've left unfinished all these years ago."

She pressed Arthur's hand. "Run along, my boy. Don't let her wait any longer." Pendragon cast a desperate glance at Gaius before he obeyed her order.

She watched him disappear in the ante chamber and smiled proudly. "And they all told me I'd lost him after my first son died in this river. Only I knew that I would see him again one day. My golden boy. Isn't he lovely?"

"Yes, My Lady" Gaius managed to get out while he fought the nausea that threatened to weaken him and his resolve. "He is a fine boy. His father is very proud of him. We all are. We wouldn't like any harm come to him."

"Sit with me" she commanded, pointing at Arthur's vacant chair imperiously and Gaius forgot her age, her destroyed face, her insecure, flickering eyes and the lost lustre of her once beautiful hair. For a moment he saw her as she once had been, in all her glory. "_Uther, whatever she was, whatever she has done, you and Gorlois had no right to do this_!"

The past is always part of the presence. Indeed.

Silently he sat down, at the same time pricking his ears for the urgent whispering that was coming from the ante chamber. What ever it was Morgana was trying to talk her brother into, his obviously steadfast refusal didn't make hers an enviable situation.

"So you still think that I would like to see further harm come to him?"

Lordegrade's question brought Gaius' attention back to the situation at hand and with an effort, he concentrated on the ghastly task for which he had come. "You are alone, My Lady?"

"If you mean whether I gave my servants the evening off, I did. Yvain wanted me to stay alone with my son, in this night of all nights."

"Why should Arthur do that?" Gaius didn't get her meaning and he was almost panicking at the thought that she might scream any moment. Heaven knew what would happen if Yvain was to find them here. So much for his plan to pass the phial in his pocket to one of the nurses under some pretext and be done with it.

"Is that the name you call him by, Arthur?"

"My Lady?"

She sighed exasperatedly. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Just do what you came to do." She stretched out her hand. "Give it to me!"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"It's in your left pocket, in case you have forgotten. Give it to me." She smiled again, sadly this time. "The magic you have laced it with is singing to me as it sung once to me before, when Yvain and Maelfwyn prepared the draught that should bring death to Gorlois the murderer. If I had known then and there that the poison was meant for my sweet little boy I would have crushed them. Now give it to me!"

As if her hand was forcing his to do her bidding, Gaius reached into his pocket and took the phial out. For a moment he held it against the light of the candles. The liquid inside shimmered like the most beautiful emerald, lush, precious, seductive.

Her hands were still beautiful. He noticed it when her fingers closed around the delicate thing and took it from him.

"Thank you, old friend" she said. "I'll make good use of this. The best. Trust me!"

The physician rose and bowed to her respectfully. He didn't know why he was doing it but it seemed the only natural thing to do. Perhaps she had no control of it, but the strength of her inborn power was still overwhelming.

Gaius hurried towards the exit and when he looked back furtively it was obviously that she had forgotten all about him. She was idly playing with the cards again. The phial lay at the side of her wine cup. Unopened. Forgotten. A beautiful toy for her; nothing more.

The healer's' shoulders sank. So much for his great plan.

"Arthur, you have to come with us now. There's nothing else for it. We've run out of options." Not as if he hadn't known the answer to that in advance.

"I've been trying to tell him that ever since he bumped into me" Morgana hissed. "There's no talking to the idiot."

"Gaius, I can't" Arthur said desperately, ignoring his foster sister. "Yvain has made it abundantly clear what would happen to Guinivere and Merlin if I did."

"Your father is going to _die_ tomorrow morning, Sire, in front of your very eyes. You won't stand this. Neither will he seeing you there."

"My father will die whether I run or not. I thought you of all people wouldn't want to see Merlin perish for nothing!"

"Arthur, he's betraying you. There is no way that Yvain would let your friends stay with you for long, whatever you do or say." In his agitation Gaius forgot whom he was talking to; he took the Prince by the shoulders and shook him like an insolent child. "If you don't run now, you're giving yourself up for nothing! Merlin wouldn't want that."

"Please, Gaius, you must go. Yvain is in the habit of dropping in on her or me without warning. We both are at his every beck and call."

Gaius saw his bitterness and his inner opposition against the constraint that was enforced on him but he also saw what he had never expected to see. Arthur had resigned to his fate. Every twist he had made, every road he had taken to get out of this and it had been no good. Yvain had apprehended him at each and every corner of the way.

Finally Uther's son had come to a point where he'd do anything to keep his friends save and otherwise be left in peace.

"Arthur, I..." the old man swallowed what else he had wanted to say. "How's Merlin?" he asked instead.

"He was unharmed when last I saw him but they had constrained his magic once more. He...he was taking it badly."

Gaius nodded. "I see."

He turned to leave but then he came back and pulled the young man into a tight embrace. "Don't give up, both of you. This isn't over yet."

Arthur briefly returned the hug with all his strength before he pushed the healer away. "Please, you have to leave now."

When Morgana once more locked the door from the outside, Gaius couldn't restrain his frustration any longer. "Damn him, what is he thinking? Does he think we can come back for him any day?"

"A fine guardian you are to your ward" she snapped. "Almost as great as Uther has been to me. And any road, if you wanted me to force his escape why didn't you say so, huh? Now get off your tush, we have work to do."

She swept past him most indignantly but he saw her wipe her eyes with her hand. Whatever Arthur had said to her had apparently been persuasive but not very comforting.

They were almost down on the last level before it occurred to Gaius that he had no idea where they were headed. He wanted to ask her when she turned around another corner and stopped.

Morgana remembered all the occasions in which she had thought about killing Uther Pendragon, the plans she had made with Morgause to that end, the glorious consequences they had imagined – a grateful, affectionate Arthur being King, magic restored to Camelot, the Blessed Isle rebuild, them being the Duchesses of Cornwall, and Merlin, full of remorse and so very much in love, virtually enraptured at her side, always at _her_ side – well the last bit hadn't exactly been _Morgause's_ dream but nevertheless...

And now?

She looked at the cell door and marvelled at herself. Here she was, she had left her beloved brother behind in his prison only to come here and free the very man she had thought she hated more than anyone in this world.

The heap of rags that had been lying in front of the door, directly before the sleeping guard, stirred, suddenly grew two legs and arms and a very dizzy Uther scrambled to his feet. "Don't trouble yourself, Your Majesty" Morgana said before she laid one arm around the King, the other around Gaius and then she vanished with her former guardian and her life-long friend.

She had known that the trouble would start after the successful prison break, not during it.

"You're mad, absolutely nuts" Gaius hissed. "What if Yvain's sorcerers have registered you using this kind of magic under their very noses?"

At the same time Uther broke free from her grip and lunged for her face. "Let go of me you filthy bastard."

"Gaius, I...Ouch. Damn you, you fool." Morgana couldn't believe that Uther had just punched her nose. "Are you blind or simply as daft as always?"

Only now the two men recognized each other and Uther realized whom he had been talking to.

"Where's Maddox?"

"Morgana, is that you? Where the hell do you come from?"

"What am I doing here?"

"Who was this bastard who attacked me in the dungeons?"

The questions hailed down on an already extremely aggravated sorceress until she finally had enough. "QUIET!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. Miraculously, it helped. Both men fell silent.

"Your Majesty's great plan needed a sorcerer to protect at least Arthur, if not to help the others escape as well. This sorcerer would be even more helpful if he had the element of surprise. As it was foreseeable that Merlin would in some way be constrained Maddox is going to take your place on the scaffold tomorrow. Yvain will never suspect an attack from the executioner's place, will he."

"An attack? A magical attack against Yvain Pendragon in the centre of his own stronghold, are you completely nuts now?"

"No, I'm not" Morgana replied heatedly. "The plan will work a treat."

"That's not a plan, that's a piece of crab" Uther said and gaius silently agreed with him.

"Well, if we do not make ourselves scarce now, we will never find out, will we?" Morgana snapped at the King. "And if I was you I'd be glad I'd seen the last of this prison. A traitor's death it would have been for you, do you know what that means?"

"After more than two years with your dearest sister one shouldn't think you'd care at all about what's happening to me." Uther wasn't that easily subdued.

"_We both care a lot about seeing you dead and gone if that's what you mean_!" Morgana had it in her brain, she had it on her lips but she didn't say it. She said something completely different.

"I never thought you'd care enough for anything or anyone to accept a sorcerer." She almost choked on her words. All this time, all this homesickness, this fretting and tormenting herself and she could just have _talked_ to him?

Her voice's trembling took the last wind out of his sails. "Morgana, I …...Ever since Gaius told me what you really are I have been thinking...hoping..."

As if he had finished the sentence she nodded, still fighting back her tears. He had accepted Merlin, for Arthur's sake, just like that. Did that mean that he would he have accepted her as well if she had _tried_?

"All right" she said "we don't have time for this. It's not your skin any more we're risking. At least not until tomorrow. But whatever happens, you should know one thing – I'm not Arthur's enemy. I never will be."

"Morgana..."

But she was already gone in another whirlwind of magic. Uther stared at the spot where she had been a moment ago. Gorlois' daughter. In all these years he hadn't given the possibility that she could have inherited her father's gifts one single thought. And now he felt that he had left down Gorlois a second time.

The King felt like vomiting. Why, why, why for the love of the Gods hadn't he killed his brother when he had had the chance back on the Blessed Isle? Gorlois might still be alive. And as for Arthur and these last two years... Resolutely Uther banished his all too emotional thoughts to the back of his head and turned to face the presence.

Meanwhile Gaius found himself peculiarly at odds with himself. A part of him was hilarious with joy that his friend was save, at least for now. Another part, the part that had begun to doubt the man many months ago, almost loathed the sight of him._ "Trust Uther Pendragon to find someone who gets him out of a self-made mess, even while his own son is still stuck in it up to his neck_."

Endred, Igraine, Balinor, Gorlois, all the innocent people who had died in the purge and afterwards, Lordegarde's ruin and now Arthur, Merlin, Guinivere – where would it end? But the man in the centre of it all would always resurrect from the ashes, a human phoenix, indefatigable and merciless.

"Gaius, it's so good to see you." The healer stood stunned when it was his turn to be closely hugged by a Pendragon. "When this bloody scoundrel abducted you I thought..."

"The bloody scoundrel is going to take your place on the scaffold for Arthur's sake, Your Majesty" Gaius heard himself say. "Doesn't that tell you something?"

"But what is in this for him, I mean what does he want to achieve? One of my brother's most trusted men, after all Yvain left this Maddox in charge in Massilia."

"_Your instincts are still intact, are they not Uther? You sense my anger, my reservation and there never was anything like an objective discussion about some other topic to bring me back in step with you."_

"We have to leave now, Sire" Gaius said wearily. "As far as I can see we are only minutes away from where Leon and his men found shelter for tonight."

"You're right, of course" Uther replied cautiously. This wasn't exactly the warm hearted reception he had expected from his old friend. "Tell me, is it true what this Maddox said before he knocked me out? Arthur's got his memory back? By _Morgana's _doing?"

"Yes, it's true" Gaius replied, still much too tight lipped for the King's taste. "And much good it did him. Your boy and mine – they're both under lock and key, guarded like two living crown jewels. As long as you _and_ your brother walk this earth, neither Arthur nor Merlin will be treated like human beings, they'll always be two prizes to be fought over, nothing more!"

For once Uther kept his silence, granting the last word to another man. He would have liked to ask the healer which of the Pendragon brothers he would preferably want to survive, but he dreaded the answer too much.

When Gaius had left him, Leon and the others had greeted him somewhat more enthusiastically than his old healer friend had done. Afterwards, alone, the King of Camelot recalled his past for the first time in many years. The compromises, the betrayals, the wars. The friends he had sacrificed. Gorlois. Balinor. And almost Gaius.

What for? For lying here, waiting impatiently for a very last chance to save his child from another ghost from the past? What would come after Yvain? Another haunt, and then another and another until one day one haunt would gain what he had come for, one revenge seeking wretched victim of Uther Pendragon would go for his son's life and succeed.

"_Arthur, if you had had a man-eating wolf for a father instead of a Pendragon, you would have had a much happier life_" Uther thought.

Back in their guest house Gaius wasn't surprised when he found Morgana on the balcony, alone. Morgause with her practical mind and common sense would try to get all the sleep she could.

The physician, still somewhat mortified that he should have made her taking such a risk again, took Morgana's arm. "Would you help me pack my things, my child" he said. She cast a long look at him before she finally nodded. "Yes, sure."

Once safely out of everybody's earshot, Gaius nudged the young woman gently. "How do you feel, child?"

She kept silent, biting her lip, and he decided to push her a little more. "It must have been ...awkward for you, seeing Uther like this, after all this time..."

To his surprise he saw tears glittering in her eyes. "Oh, Gaius" she said "you have no idea." The proud if somewhat cynical young sorceress, so sure of herself, that he had faced on the roof of Morgause's home was very far away in this moment.

He held her while she cried until her usual defiance and pride brought her out of it without his doing or support.

Some time in the small hours Morgana briefed her elder sister of what had occurred and of what Maddox had done. Morgause listened quietly all the way through the awkwardly prolonged and twisted explanations and excuses until Morgana's voice faded away.

"Get out of my sight" was all Morgause said and her younger sister trotted away like a scolded dog.

Later in the morning they all met in a small wood near the town gates where they put on their weapons and armour, both literally and figuratively. Uther and Morgause kept a distance, anxious to not even look at each other, the sorceress' hatred against the King for once being checked by her mortal fear for Maddox' life.

Morgana looked at her sister only briefly before she went close to Gaius and stayed there. They split of and in groups of two or three they seeped into the crowd that had begun gathering.

Somewhere in the hustle Morgana lost sight of Gaius. Silently wishing him good luck for whatever it was he had planned to do she turned left and finally she found Leon and his group.

The knight greeted her with a nod. "The King has taken up position with some of my men somewhere else" he whispered.

"I know" she replied. "That's fine with me."

She jerked when the drums announced the beginning of today's great show.

Suddenly she wished she had told her brother that the man on the scaffold would not be his father and to hell with Maddox's fears that Arthur might give himself away again to Yvain's always watchful eyes. But now it was too late.

Her eyes searched the tribune from which the ducal 'family' would watch the performance.

If one wanted to call it that.


	30. A bold escape

**30 A bold escape**

Duke Yvain wiped the sweat off his forehead. He felt his muscles cramp and tremble. This was the moment he had been waiting for since the day he had found his mother dead. Since the day he had first realized what Athalf and Condwiramur had done to the hapless, lonely woman who had posed no threat to them.

This was the moment he had been looking forward to all his life and here he was, sweaty, tormented by an excruciating headache, feeling nauseous, queasy – and terrified.

More terrified than he had been in a very long time.

There was this little insistent voice in his head. It sounded familiar. Like a friend he'd known a for a lifetime but never heeded. The voice kept telling him that he was getting it all wrong. That he had made some terrible mistakes already and that he was about to make another, equally regrettable one.

He ignored it. It talked louder. He ignored it again. It began to throb behind the skin of his temples.

"Lordegrade, my love, we have been through this. As my son and heir he _has_ to witness the execution of my most mortal enemy. Uther is responsible for the death of his fiancée. What should the O'Brians say if my only son was to stay away from the just punishment my brother is about to receive?"

She looked at him quietly. Her eyes were clear. Bright, glittering more than was natural, but clear. Restful. Focused. For many a year Yvain had wished to see them like this. Now he was afraid of this silent, knowing and somehow accusing stare.

Finally Lordegrade lowered her gaze. "So you are not going to spare him this ordeal?"

"Listen, I do not know what he's told you, but you must know that he hasn't been himself recently."

She smiled, one of her slender, elegant hands dusting an imagined speck of dirt from her splendid velvet and satin gown. "Are you so sure of that? I thought he might have been more himself yesterday than he had been in a long time. But, if you say you cannot be merciful, who am I to argue with your special concept of fatherly affection?"

"Sweetheart, I..."

"Never mind" she said. With great tenderness she brushed his hair out of his face, brushed it behind his ear. Once, before she had lost her mind, this had been a very private caress, one that belonged only to them. Her eyes intently searched his face – for what?

"We both have had a singular way of loving somebody" she stated. "Ours is not the kind of love other people can easily survive."

Abruptly, with an almost desperate passion she embraced him, digging her nails into the skin of his back as if she'd never let go of him. Her hot breath stroked his ear when she began to whisper urgently. "I heard it all, what you did to him last night, but even though it was ...kind of you to visit me, to spend some time with me. It was... a special opportunity for me! Thank you. Thank you for this."

The Duke resigned once more to his inability to make any sense of her words. "Will you be ready when the time comes? I will take care of the boy..."

"Don't trouble yourself, Your Grace" Lordegrade said and shoved him away as suddenly as she had pulled him close, her voice now freezing cold, like midnight in January. "I will make sure that he joins us on the tribune, although I think it's strange that you _think_ you cannot do without him today while you _know_ that you can not do without him for the rest of your life. One might think this to be mutually exclusive."

Without another word or look she turned away from him and left him stranded in the apartment's splendour.

To his own awkward surprise he had to suppress a moment of despair. Horribly embarrassed he felt tears well up inside him and he fought them down instantly.

This wasn't the great day of glory he had been dreaming of and scheming for all these years. His apprehension became even stronger but so did Yvain's defiance. Nobody would come between him and his revenge this time. No one!

They would both join him on the tribune, Lordegrade because she would never forsake him and Arthur because he had no other choice. It would be enough. Who cared what they both thought about this anyway?

The Duke turned on his heels and went away to make sure that his orders for their special guests at the execution ground would be carried out to the letter.

Meanwhile Prince and warlock tried to overcome their own share of awkwardness. With a cautious glance at the guards who guarded the door Arthur turned to his friend. "How are you?"

"I might as well ask you that" the warlock replied, pretending to be busy arranging the collar of Arthur's tunic.

"I'm not the one who has been whipped" Arthur whispered back, his anger unmistakable.

"I'll live" Merlin said, in spite of their gruesome situation secretly enjoying that for once it was for _him_ to play the tough cookie. "The Duke could hardly expect you to accept his kind invitation to this abomination without a fight."

Absent mindedly Arthur rubbed the bruises the soldiers' fists had left on his arms. "My uncle didn't give me much opportunity to fight this" he hissed. "I should have known he'd demonstrate his power to hurt you and Guinivere the moment I defy him. It was _that_ obvious."

Merlin flinched when Arthur's eyes met his. He wasn't used to seeing his royal friend remorseful. "I'm sorry I let it come to this" the Prince said. "And to think that this ass hole Brecan came to you afterwards... What on earth do you find to laugh about in this?"

"Brecan" Merlin replied, still grinning broadly. "Before he could even begin to rough handle me I told him that he was to answer to _you_ for my healing progress. He was as tame as a lamb after that. Gaius himself could not have taken better care of me. See?"

The warlock moved his shoulders and waved his arms to show that his back was fine again. "Didn't take half an hour. Although it was torture listening to his healing spells. He's got an horrible accent. With him stammering I was terrified out of my wits that he'd change me into a rabbit, just by accident."

Arthur covered his face with both hands for a second. "You are impossible, absolutely impossible" he whispered back. "_I wish I could tell you how much I appreciate what you are trying to do __here"_ he thought. "_But if I do, I'll never make it to that fucking tribune and live through this in one piece."_

And the last thing he wanted was to let his father see his son's agony being added to his own. Miserable as it was, but while he was utterly powerless on every other score, this was one satisfaction he still could deny his uncle.

Merlin had never told his friend that Uther had meant to accept his horrible death as a means for his son's liberation from Maelfwyn's mental bondage. At first there had been no opportunity and later it had seemed unnecessarily cruel. Arthur felt guilty enough as it was, without someone adding to this burden of remorse and self-hatred.

The Prince's reaction when Yvain had ordered Merlin to be tortured in front of him had made that very clear. Last night the warlock had thought he'd preferred almost anything over the sight of his friend's helpless pleas and his final surrender.

"Arthur, what I wanted to say about last night..."

"Forget that now. There are more important things to talk about. Obviously Morgana and Guinivere did not come alone after all. Gaius is here, in Cearcean,"

The warlock lost hold of the jacket he had in his hands and bent down to lift it from the floor. Arthur bent down too, using the opportunity to say some more. "He's fine Merlin, no need to worry about him. He said you are to hang on just a bit longer, it's not over yet. Forgive me for not telling him what had happened to you earlier."

Merlin's head swam in utter confusion. "I don't understand..."

The guards snapped to attention at Lordegrade's entry and Merlin felt Arthur wince at the sound. Alarmed, he broke off and looked at his friend, trying to capture the Prince's gaze in the mirror and met Lordegrade's eyes instead.

He knew at once who she would be, although he hadn't seen her when he had first been dragged here only an hour ago. From Gaius' stories he had imagined her to be somewhat greater than life.

What the young warlock had not expected was that his magic would react to hers immediately. It burned inside him like the hottest flame, made him fight for breath, longing to reach out to her, roaring angrily under the bracelets' bondage, detached from his will, a being in its own right. With wishes, desires that were its own, not his.

Images raced through his mind. Palaces. Temples, their splendour beyond his wildest imaginations. People, chanting, an ancient knowledge, lost forever. And power. Incredible power, let loose with a smile, a careless laughter. A game. For fun. A bunch of butterflies in a meadow. Or a raging fire that could extinguish an army in the blink of an eye.

Her gaze had captured his and did not let go. It was as if he would drown in these gleaming green depths. Merlin did not know that he was moaning softly, that he would have fallen to his knees hadn't the Prince caught him in time.

"So that's his magical brother. I'm glad to finally make your acquaintance."

Her voice was like warm silk and her hands were soft when she gently stroked his cheek.

"You can see it, can't you? These childish toys on your wrists can't really hamper what's in you. All this should have been your heritage. This you should have learned, this you should have owned, had the Blessed Isle not been swept out of this world."

"Mother, please let go of him. He doesn't know what you are doing, he is not one of Maelfwyn's adepts." Arthur's voice cut through Merlin's fascination, bringing him back from wherever her eyes had taken him. It felt like falling from a fire into ice cold water, unprepared.

"I am afraid we both have to go now, my son" Lordegrade said, focusing on the Prince now. "I've stalled for the necessary time to pass as best I could. Let's hope it sufficed."

Arthur shook his head before he walked towards her. "Let's go then. The sooner it's over the better."

Lordegrade stretched out her arm and Arthur took it in a perfect courtly gesture and they walked on together, with Merlin falling into step behind them. It was a heart warming scene of family harmony between a mother and her son. Arthur knew far too well what price his friends would have to pay if he made a mistake here.

They met the Duke at the bottom of the main stairs.

"Your friends will watch the execution from a more befitting place." Yvain's face paled visibly when he sighted the young warlock at his nephew's side. His gaze flickered to Lordegrade. This hadn't been done at _his_ order.

With his senses still being over-sensitive from his contact with Lordegrade, Merlin now imagined he could really see Yvain's magic for the first time.

The older Pendragon's magic was like a giant snake curled up inside him, cold, deliberate, ready to strike. Where his Lady openly showed her power, passion and emotion His Grace the Duke of Cornwall gave the outward appearance of control and discipline, which made the raging hatred and wrath underneath so much more terrifying. An ice cap that covered a volcano's mouth.

Merlin marvelled at his own former reckless insolence and self-assredness. He was no coward but Yvain made him tremble and it wasn't for the bracelets on his wrists. For the first time ever the magician was confronted with a person he could not figure out. He had seen for himself that the Duke had a genuine affection for his nephew, strong enough to back down from Merlin's heated accusations but not strong enough to spare Arthur this day.

Love, hatred, loyalties - they all were intertwined and conflicting in this soul in a way Merlin couldn't even begin to understand. Or could he? Uncomfortably the warlock was reminded of the day he had poisoned a young woman who had considered him a close and trustworthy friend...

Meanwhile Yvain had regained his composure. _"Not that strong any more, are you?"_ His mental voice rang in Merlin's head. "_No more self-righteous sermons from you? Good old fashioned whipping, It's still useful at times_!"

"_This has nothing to do with your stupid threats!"_ Merlin felt his face grow hot.

"_No. It has to do with who is really important and who is not, Believe me, you' could have freed yourself from the bracelets yesterday, regardless of the pain. I had driven you mad enough to even accept death as a price for your freedom. If it hadn't been for Arthur's suffering that broke your will. As it always will."_

Merlin hated himself for it but he knew that Yvain was absolutely right about this. "_I hate you!_" was all he found for a reply, like a little child would berate his parents for refusing him a coveted toy. Even to his own mental ears it sounded miserable. And powerless.

"_But you love him, as much as I do. We both know, Uther's death will make things much easier for Arthur_. _The lack of alternatives is freedom in itself_. "

Partly in anger, partly in disgust of this ghastly kind of logic Merlin heard himself gasp and Arthur made a move towards him.

"Correct me from wrong but didn't you say we had to go?" Lordegrade's calm voice interrupted the heated but silent exchange between the two magicians. "Besides, I want the young warlock at my son's side today. _And_ the young Lady you thought you could keep from me."

The Duke's eyes burned holes into his nephew but Lordegrade would not have this. "If you had wanted to keep me in the dark, Your Grace, you should have kept your voice down yesterday. As I said, I heard every word of last night's lecture in …..filial discipline."

"My dear, you're getting this wrong..."

"Yvain, please. I insist on them both staying with us on the tribune. And there's an end to it."

When she simply turned away and rushed out, nobody had another choice but to follow her, with the Duke falling into step at Arthur's side.

"Take this" Yvain muttered at his nephew while he handed him a sword belt with a sheathed blade. "It's necessary for the sake of appearances but I wouldn't exactly advise you to use it."

listening to his friend's soft steps behind him Arthur had no doubt whatsoever about this.

From her position in the crowd Morgana was the first who spotted the ducal procession walking towards the tribune. She flinched in surprise at the sight of her foster brother being closely followed by Merlin and Guinivere, both surrounded by the Duke's guards. Twice Arthur craned his neck to look at them until he suddenly seemed to lose interest and lowered his head.

Morgana did not know whether to admire or to curse her brother for his self-control as he calmly nodded at Lord O'Brian who had been waiting for them at the tribune's stairs.

When they had all taken their seats, with Yvain, Lordegrade, Arthur and Lord O'Brian in front, Merlin and Guinivere behind them the drums announced the next stage of the spectacle. From this moment on Arthur's eyes were glued to the scaffold, oblivious to anything else.

"The damned bastards, they have him in a restraining spell" Morgause whispered to Gaius who had found a place at her side. "See these three guards behind him? They aren't soldiers, they are magicians. Druids!"

"It was to be expected" Gaius answered calmly. "Why should Yvain rely on his hostages alone?" He sounded distracted, peculiarly uninterested. Morgause gazed at him, astonished. When she followed his look she saw that his whole attention was focused on the mad old hag, of all people. Briefly she mused about his reasons for that but then the doors of the dungeons opened and she forgot all about the old healer. Like her brother she saw only the man who was dragged towards the scaffold, battered, bruised and bloodied already before the horrible procedure of his execution had even begun. The body showed each and every characteristic of Uther Pendragon. The delusion was so perfect that Morgause shuddered at the sight.

Meanwhile the real Uther had no eyes for anything except his son at Yvain's side. At the sight of the damned servant wretch and the young warlock on the tribune he had almost faltered with relief. This would make things much easier, at least he would not be forced to somehow persuade Arthur in an instant to leave his friends behind.

The King hissed at his men to get ready, hoping frantically that Leon and the others would fall in line when it was necessary.

Maddox raised his head only when he and his guards approached the steps to the scaffold. Pretending to anxiously staring at the instruments of torture displayed he furtively glanced at the situation on the tribune before he, now from the elevated position under the gallows, scanned the crowd. Morgause, Morgana and Gaius his magical senses found immediately, but for Uther he had to look harder before his eyes found him at the fence that secured the tribune against the onlookers, only four or five steps away from Yvain's seat.

Maddox, still in the disguise of the King of Camelot, searched for Arthur's gaze and as he had expected he had no problem with that. The Prince's eyes had been searching for his since he had set foot on the scaffold.

"_All the players are on the board_" the young Druid magician thought "_Show time!_"

He smiled reassuringly at Arthur and as if he was pulled by a rope, Yvain's face turned away from the scaffold and to the young prisoner at his side, checking the Prince for a reaction that might give something away.

Invisible to the others but noticeable for a magician Arthur began to struggle against the spell that kept him motionless in his seat until the Duke leaned to him even more, putting his hand on the Prince's arm, whispering something to him.

Maddox inhaled deeply and broke free from his guards' hold with both arms. A blinding wave of energy swept over the scaffold and the crowd, toppling over each and everyone who stood in its way, soldiers, onlookers and furnishings alike until it reached the tribune with ferocious force.

Even while he jumped off the scaffold Maddox saw that the Duke's guards had been either incapacitated or at least been thrown into utter confusion. This included the sorcerers behind the Prince.

Arthur was on his feet and with his two friends in an instant, the sword he had pulled out gleaming in the sun.

"What's happening?" Guinivere's voice was with him even before he reached her.

"I don't know but we have to get out of here." Merlin had more experience with sudden changes than she had; the warlock just grabbed her wrist and dragged her away, towards where Arthur's hand had indicated and all three of them reached the fence behind the tribune together while their detested guards were still sprawled in various positions on the tribune's floor.

Most of the people had by now withdrawn from the fence, all but a small group of men who tried to climb over it. Suddenly Arthur's raised sword fell limply to his side while he stared at the man in front of him.

Quickly the stranger took the blade from the young Prince's hand and laid his arm over Arthur's shoulder. "Quickly now, we have to make a run for it!"

With this unmistakable voice, neither Merlin nor Guinivere had a problem following the hooded figure who dragged the Prince along.

Miraculously they made it to the inner gates unhindered, drawn along and covered by the stampeding crowd of people driven mad with fear by the continuously raging lightnings which came first from the scaffold, then from the tribune. The single source of the blinding, ear crushingly loud flashes of magic had long been joined by others, the yellow light was soon almost drowned by red or blue flashes from the Duke's magicians who had gathered their thoughts enough to fight back.

Once outside the court yard the crowd dragged them even further, the men and women too blinded by fear to care for the peculiar group in their midst. Yvain had nourished their fear and apprehension of him and his powers for years and now the panic this fear created was stronger than the few soldiers who guarded the court yard and the gates.

Uther permitted himself only one look over his shoulder, his son still safely in his arm but his soul screaming with fear for a certain stubborn,misguided young woman – and for an old healer he had learned to miss deeply.

Merlin saw the King turning his head and followed his eyes for a moment before he focused on the quickly approaching outer wall and the main gates. He was gasping for air by now, the mad run overtaxing his only just healed muscles and flesh. Yesterday's ordeal had been somewhat harder to endure than he had let his royal friend know. Guinivere, at Arthur's side, didn't do much better, hindered by an absurd lot of long and heavy skirts which threatened to trap her legs at every step.

"Thank gods, these are the last gates" Arthur shouted and Merlin thought that he had never heard him that enthusiastic about anything before. "_And what's gained by this, eh? Prat!_" the warlock thought lovingly. As if he did not know that the mere thought of being outside of Cearcean, with his friends and Uther by his side, would go to the Prince's head like a strong wine.

Leon had seen his Royals make their escape while Maddox still fought on, focusing his power on Yvain and the few sorcerers who were still alive on the tribune and around it.

With increasing dread the knight watched the Druids coming together, shielding the Duke and his Lady from Maddox' attacks. Soon some of them began to fight back and Maddox' figure, that had been so threatening and intimidating only moments ago, suddenly seemed to crumble when the first shots penetrated his magical defence and hit his body.

"We have to help him, cover the King's escape" Leon shouted and he and his fellow knights threw off their cloaks and tried to fight their way through the crowd towards the tribune. To his utter dismay Leon saw the Lady Morgana pull her sword and join their fight.

"MY Lady, this is dangerous. Please stay out of this!" She did not bother herself with an answer; she just pressed on, hell bent on reaching the tribune first, her blade cutting furiously through anyone who came in her way.

"My Lady, please!" Leon pushed an already wounded soldier away from her and finished him off with one blow of his sword while he kicked in another man's groins at the same time.

"Yvain was responsible for my father's death" he heard her scream. "He will not take someone else I care for. Not as long as I am breathing!"

She almost made it to the tribune in her single-minded, lunatic run for revenge, not even knowing that her sister and her men had joined her fight, covering her back.

Leon knew that she had lost when he saw Yvain rose to his feet on the tribune, smiling. Casually, indifferently the Master Sorcerer raised his head and hand to heaven and muttered something.

Camelot's head knight had the dispensable honour to see them all go down under the terrible storm of energy that came from the clouds above which Yvain's power had called to his aid before finally, Leon's world became black and void.

The storm raced through the court yard, ended innocent lives and guilty ones, breaking bones, ripping skin and flesh, destroying centuries old masterpieces of masonry and architecture before it finally died down. It had reached its final goal and found that it was no longer needed.

Suddenly all was very quiet.

The clouds dissembled and the sun was shining again, shining on a scene of death, pain and destruction.

Father and son were already on the ground, motionless. As were Uther's few surviving men and his servant friends. They had all stumbled and hit the cobbled ground together, unconscious before they had really felt the blinding onslaught of the seals which had been installed in the gateway only yesterday.


	31. Twisted

**31. ****Twisted**

From his place on the wall Gaius had watched the disaster enfolding and it had made his worst expectations look like childish optimism.

His last hopes had died when Lordegrade had left the tribune – or what had been left of it – in an apparently perfect state of health.

Unseen and unnoticed the healer had watched his friends' arrest as well as the soldiers dragging the four fugitives from the main gates back into the castle. Arthur and the others were barely conscious and in no condition to struggle. But at least they weren't dead.

"_At least not yet_" the physician thought bitterly. He had no delusions about what fate Yvain would have in store for his prisoners. His brother and Gorlois' two daughters as well as the young Druid sorcerer whom he had held in high esteem but who had betrayed him nevertheless – it would be a great day in the Duke's life when he could send them all to the next world together.

Gaius saw that the soldiers' group split up at the castle doors, one group taking their load down towards the vaults of the citadel while the men who held Arthur, Merlin and Guinivere were obviously headed to the higher floors of the impressive building.

The old man shuddered slightly.

If he were in the young Prince's shoes he'd be hard put to decide which perspective was the crueller one: To face the dungeons' walls and finally the executioner or to go back to the never ending nightmare of being Yvain's pet prisoner, his every move controlled, his every resistance punished by lashing into his closest friend or the woman he loved while he was powerless to defend or protect them other than by going to his knees.

The healer suddenly felt moisture on his face and to his dismay he found tears rolling down his cheeks. He told himself that they were tears of anger, not of cowardice, but unfortunately that made them neither less mortifying nor less painful.

Doubtlessly Arthur must have had hopes to make it this time, doubtlessly he had been hilarious at the perspective that his father and his friends would be safe, that they would all escape together. Doubtlessly the loss of this hope would finally crush the last shred of his pride and self-esteem to dust.

All their plans and all their schemes and all they had achieved was making Yvain's victory a total one.

When dusk fell on the remnants of the chaotic events and the court yard became quiet, Gaius finally left his place and sneaked out of Cearcean. Frankly, he had no idea why he did that. Much better to give himself up, to die together with the people he belonged to, to leave it all behind. Kick the bucket and find some peace, at last.

But his mind was of one opinion and his feet were of another. He stopped walking when he had reached their quarters in the guest house, telling the landlady some quickly made up story about his family having met some friends who had lost a relative in the hurly-burly.

The woman was much too aggravated by the mad things she had witnessed in the town and the even madder tales she had been told by the people to care for Gaius' desolate state and so she left him alone.

In his room the healer crawled under his bed covers and buried his head in the pillows, waiting for he didn't know what.

"_I will make good use of it. The best. Trust me!_" He remebered, the phial had been gleaming in the candle light, like a gem stone. Beautiful, seductive – and lethal.

What a fool he had been. A fool listening to another fool, an even greater one, only because she had once been glorious, because she had once intimidated a young man in the temple of healers, because she had looked so regally, so sure of herself…..and because he had thought of the lump of bloody flesh that by right should have been her second child. "_My golden boy. Isn't he lovely?"_

Why hadn't he seen that Arthur's presence there had been a god sent? Why hadn't he told Morgana to abduct her foster brother; with or without his consent?

Once, on their journey from their exile to Camelot, he had spent a night alone in the woods, after he had almost broken Merlin's heart with some rash, cruel words. Then and there he had made a vow that he would abandon Uther if necessary, that his allegiance from now on would be with the son, not with the father, whatever the costs, yes, whatever the costs…..

Where had his resolve gone when the time had come? The boy had stood before him; he had had him in his _arms_, for the Gods' sake, and he had done nothing.

Merciless, unstoppable memories of happier times walked by the old man's mental eyes, Merlin and his belief in his destiny, Arthur growing up into a splitting image of his father's worst treats of character, no sign of the King they had hoped him to be. Then the Prince had changed through his forbidden friendship with a servant boy and his equally forbidden love for another servant, Guinivere's smile when she had thought that nobody saw her – What good did all this now?

What else had all of it become but a tool for blackmail in a brute's hand, a man who himself had loved the wrong person in the wrong place and who now, by sheer force, was trying to buy and to bully fate into providing him with a family that existed only in his dreams.

And three cheers for Gaius! Gaius, the great healer, the Master Sorcerer of the healing profession, Gaius with the grand scheme of forcing Yvain to let them _all_ go free by the same way the Duke had once forced a desperate Uther to choose between the lives of his only child and his closest friend!

Oh, yes, cheer Gaius, the idiot. Gaius the fool. Gaius who had got them all killed now except the three he had lost to Yvain's special concept of 'loving' someone by suffocating his every shred of personality and freedom until nothing was left but an empty shell.

Suddenly the old man jumped out of the bed and started a frantic search in his bags, his hands shaking and his breathing ragged until he found what he had been looking for.

The physician held the little glass bottle in his trembling fingers. He had no clue of what he was to do with this thing, now that it was useless, but he cradled it to his chest as if it was the most precious item he had ever held in his whole life - -

She had to tap him on the shoulder twice before he turned round and uncomprehendingly stared into her eyes.

"Come, Gaius. It is time!" Lordegrade softly said and he rose without a question, without a word and followed her back to the castle, the phial with the antidote safely in his pocket.

"You'll find a healer's robe in the ante-chamber. You need to freshen up. I need to present a great and distinguished healer priest to Lord O'Brian, not a crooked old scare crow with puffy eyes. The man and his forces are virtually in control of Cearcean now and I do not want his fucking Lordship to realize that or our young Prince can kiss his last chance good bye. Understood?"

Honestly, Gaius hadn't understood anything of what she had said but he nodded and carried her order out to the letter while she vanished through another door, telling him that she would sent for him when the time was right.

Apparently this was the case soon after she had left him, for Gaius was called into the room by a young and very nervous servant who took to his heels as soon as he possibly could.

On his entry the physician, now in the most splendid robe he had ever possessed and with all the adornments of a high-ranking priest of the healers' temple, found Lordegrade at the side of a bed in the room's corner, weeping softly into an embroidered handkerchief. A big, powerful looking man stood behind her, his left hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

With a jolt Gaius recognized the limp form on the bed not as Arthur or another one of his friends, but as Yvain, the Duke of Cornwall himself.

Lord O'Brian looked up at the sound of the healer's entry and felt for his sword but before he could say something Lordegrade jumped to her feet with a small scream and rushed towards Gaius to throw herself in his arms; circling his neck tightly with her hands.

"Oh, Gaius, Gaius, my precious friend, what a relief that you are here finally, that these scoundrels let you come back unharmed. I am only a poor, helpless woman, how should I have dealt with this awful situation without some strong men to aid me?"

She embraced her 'precious friend' even tighter and hissed into his ear "follow my lead!"

Abruptly she let go of him and turned back to Lord O'Brian, stretching out her beautiful, trembling, pitifully pale and fragile looking hands to him. "This is our saviour, My Lord, the hero who was willing to give himself up to these scoundrels that are holding my husband's life in their hands. He went out to Uther's remaining men and negotiated for milder terms."

It was apparent that O'Brian was completely clueless when he looked bewildered from her to Gaius and back again. The old physician nodded gravely and patted the Duchesses' back soothingly, considering this the best reaction, if there was such a thing right now.

Follow my lead, my foot! What lead?

"What terms?" O'Brian asked. "What are you talking about, Your Grace? This afternoon your husband was joy himself that he and your family were out of danger, now I find him gravely ill, yourself in utter despair and talking of other criminals and of terms?"

Lordegrade sobbed again into her handkerchief most becomingly. Gaius did not trust his eyes. Was this vulnerable, tender, helpless female the great Lordegrade, the second highest ranking member of the most powerful order of warlocks the Blessed Isle had ever seen?

O'Brian frowned impatiently. "Where is the Prince? I am sure your son could bring some light into this!"

"But that's exactly the point" Lordegrade squeaked. She seemed to pull herself together with a will. It looked like the last heroic effort of a woman at breaking point. Her voice trembled, but it was calm when she continued. "My Lord you have proved yourself as a most loyal, most trustworthy friend to our house and family and I think that you deserve to hear the whole truth now, ugly as it maybe." She dabbed her eyes once more and took Gaius hand into hers.

"His Eminence also is a friend like that to me – to us –. The scoundrels therefore contacted him to let me know that they had poisoned my husband. Naturally I thought this to be a lie but then my beloved Yvain began to show the first symptoms this morning. He thought nothing of it, my poor, brave darling."

She sobbed again, a soft, shuddering sound. "But I asked Gaius to have a look at him which he did and he confirmed it. Yvain has indeed been poisoned. I begged and begged my husband to abstain from the execution, to postpone it, but he would hear nothing of it. Gaius, my dear friend, went again to see these rascals, at the greatest peril for his own life. I had asked him to beg these awful men to at least spare my son, when all their other terms would be met. You see, I knew that Yvain would never have made it through the execution and so Gaius, in my name, agreed to their demands. Uther and all of his companions are to be set free. For that we are to get the antidote. If my husband does not receive it in the next eight days, he's going to die a horrible death. I have already given order for the prisoners' release tonight."

This brought the Lord up to his feet from the chair he had taken when she had begun to speak. "Under no circumstances are they to go unpunished. Duke Yvain would never accept this. My daughter's death…"

"Lord O'Brian, please. I mourn the Lady Brianna deeply, I really do, but may I remind you that my husband's _life_ is at stake here. There is no other cure, the poison has been designed magically and the antidote has to be specifically designed, too. Naturally we will meet the men's terms and there's an end to it."

"Your Grace, I am sure that your son will agree with me that this is impossible. I insist that the Prince's decision has to be the final one. He should be called immediately."

He made two steps towards the door before her voice stopped him in mid-stride. "Lord O'Brian, you're forgetting yourself. My son has been tormented by Uther and his men for years, twice in the last few weeks they have laid their hands on him and this time he has been hurt. He is not to be troubled with this and there is no need for his decision. _I_ am the Duchess of Cornwall and _I_ am mistress here!"

O'Brian had no magic and no experience with people who had. He had accepted his new friends' gifts as he would have accepted a friend's superior sword skills but that didn't necessarily make him an expert. He did not see the energy building up inside the deceitfully delicate female body. But Gaius did. Lordegrade might have warned him of the potential danger the Lord posed to her plans but now _she_ seemed to have forgotten all about that.

"Your Grace, please, I beg you; you must not overtax yourself. Your poor, much tormented heart cannot stand such strain. Duke Yvain would have everyone's head for endangering your precarious health like that." With these words the healer pulled her hand to his lips and faked a submissive kiss on her fingers. He let go of her with a punitive look at O'Brian, accompanied by a most forbidding shake of his head.

"Let me have another look at His Grace before we go on talking." Three resolute strides and Gaius was at Yvain's side. He checked his pulse, the sweat on his face and chest, the heavy breathing and all the other symptoms. There was no doubt about it. Lordegrade had indeed administered the poison to him, not to herself, roughly 18 or 20 hours ago.

For the briefest moment Gaius allowed himself to gloat. It had begun like that for the five year old son of Uther Pendragon, exactly like that. Fever, headache, nausea, then the collapse and the unconsciousness. It had taken the poor child almost thirty hours until the pain had set in but then he had screamed his heart out. As his uncle undoubtedly would do some time tomorrow. Until the moment he received the antidote. _If_ he received the antidote in time.

When her hand touched his, the physician almost recoiled from her, shuddering at the contact with her skin. "_I will make good use of it. The best. Trust me!_"

Indeed, she had. Only now Gaius began to realize that it was the perfect solution. He had been nuts to believe that, once Lordegrade had been out of danger, something could have prevented Yvain from going after his brother again. And again. And again. Until he would have finally succeeded or died in the process.

And suddenly Gaius saw one thing with perfect clarity: Whatever Yvain would have intended, somehow, some when, somewhere in this mad struggle Arthur and everybody on his side would have been caught between the fronts and perished.

How, with what she felt for this man, had Lordegrade been able to do such a thing? How on earth could a woman do that to a man who had loved her all his life, more than his family, his carrier, and definitely much more than himself?

How could a mother of two dead children do that for another woman's child?

"It is as we thought, isn't it?" she asked him. When he kept silent, awestruck, she insisted. "Isn't it?"

Gaius neither trusted his voice nor his face when he looked at her, so he faced O'Brian who had come back to them, unsure of what to do. He wasn't cut out for situations like this. He was brave, integer and earth-bound but when it came to being intelligent he usually called his wife.

"Indeed, it is the poison" this intimidating healer now confirmed and O'Brian's stomach cramped when Lordegrade's shoulders sank and she began to whimper. To hell with this woman. He couldn't figure her out. One minute a harpy, the next second a fragile ethereal thing. Small wonder his friend Yvain had once told him that his wife had 'her moments' from time to time and that he desperately feared that their son might have inherited her inclination. So far Arthur had seemed sane and intelligent enough to him but, all the same, Yvain had been forced to keep his own son under lock and key after the execution had been scheduled…

The Lord looked down on his unconscious friend. Damn, the Duke didn't look so well. O'Brian thought about the plans he and Yvain had made, for their realms, for their children. Brianna was dead and his heart would never stop mourning her. But Arthur was young and there were other O'Brian daughters to come of age soon enough.

Brianna's father inhaled deeply before he addressed the old healer. "Ah, well, so what about these 'milder terms' now?"

Gaius flinched but Lordegrade came to his rescue. "These rascals want a reliable insurance for their safe passage home" she said. "They agreed to leave the antidote behind at a safe place where we could collect it in time but only if….." she interrupted herself most effectively and swallowed hard before she continued, apparently still at the brinks of even more tears "only if my son was to accompany them as their hostage, to ensure their safe passage."

"Outrageous!" O'Brian roared. "How could anyone ask that of a mother? This is, is….."

"Unacceptable!" Lordegrade finished his sentence for him. "That's exactly what I asked Gaius to tell them. I asked my dear friend to convey the message to our enemies, that I would be willing to entrust my son's dearest friends to their dubious care, but under no circumstances would the Prince himself come to their hands, ever again. Isn't that so, Gaius?"

"Yes, My Lady. Quite so." Gaius pressed it out through clenched jaws. So much for his romantic ideas of Lordegrade doing this for 'her boy'.

She just had decided that it would be much easier to handle things – as well as 'her boy' – if the load of Uther's death and his friends' captivity would _not_ rest on Arthur's shoulders. She knew him much better than Yvain did. The Prince would surely see himself under an unbelievably massive load of gratitude and obligation to her for the rest of his miserable life. It would chain him down much more effectively than Yvain's methods ever could have done. And with much less risk.

Arthur was young, he was healthy, lively, a people's person. Surely life and youth would have their demands and he would finally give up, settle in.

Gaius could almost hear her thinking it.

But even so, even while bile was rising in his throat and his hands became fists at his side; some part of Gaius felt an equally heavy weight being lifted from his own soul.

"_Merlin_" he thought. Merlin would come back with him. No more dangerous adventures, no more hidden perils, no beasts, no evil plots – peace and safety for all of them, even for Uther. After all he'd know that his son was alive and safe, at least in a way and…..

So that was how it felt.

If one sacrificed the one for the other, this was how it felt. And suddenly Gaius knew why he hadn't told Morgana to free Arthur even against his will. "_Merlin would not want you to give yourself up for nothing, Sire_." He had said it, only yesterday. But he hadn't believed it. Merlin wouldn't like it one bit but as bad came to worse Gaius had chosen _him_ over the Crown Prince of Camelot.

While marvelling at himself and his twisted loyalties the physician almost missed the rest of the conversation between the Duchess and her confused 'ally'.

"Surely you realize why I would not have my son join us here, while we are talking about this?" she had just said.

All of a sudden, without much further thought, as was his way, O'Brian made up his mind. "_Forgive me, Brianna_" he thought.

"Very well then, Your Grace" the Lord replied firmly. "It shall be as you wish. I even will attach an escort of my own men to this so called 'King' and his accomplices, to make sure that they all reach and board their ship and good riddance. Naturally my men will take care of Arthur's friends. This goes without saying."

He nodded gravely, not knowing that his real thoughts were written all over his face. "_And if you think that you will see this hapless boy or the girl again, you really __**are**__ nuts, just as your husband said!_" And why should they come back? Honestly, he hadn't liked the looks Arthur and this Gwenny or Gini person had exchanged on the tribune any way. As the head of the O'Brian-Clan he had an obligation to his other female relatives, whoever would become Arthur's wife now.

"I knew I could count on you, My Lord!" Lordegrade smiled through her tears while she looked up at him pleadingly. "_Calcu__lating bastard!_"she thought and her smile became even more radiant.

Gaius cleared his throat. He had come to a decision, too. "Your Grace, I must ask you to brace yourself. This solution, perfect as it would be, is hardly possible. Uther's men did not agree to it! They insist on His Highness accompanying them. And a Cearcean escort is out of the question!"

The room fell utterly silent after that, with Yvain's laboured breathing as the only audible sound. Lordegrade stared at 'her old friend', her eyes narrowed. When she finally spoke to him, Gaius heard her furious voice only in his mind, but there it echoed thunderously. "_What do you think you're doing, you bloody idiot? Are you now completely senile?_"

"I did my best to convince them but they were adamant, Your Grace. I'm desolate but that's how things are."

Suddenly Lordegrade seemed to faint. Helplessly she searched for a chair with her hand and O'Brian made haste to lead her to one before she would fall. "My Lord, I owe you an apology" she whispered weakly. "You were right and I was wrong. This decision is for my son to make. Only he can say whether he _or_ his friends are to go with these villains. Please, would you fetch him for me? He's in his room, resting."

The Lord straightened his back. "Naturally, Your Grace." A good idea. Let Arthur deal with the madmen in his family. Or the madwomen!

As soon as O'Brian had left them Lordegrade rose and approached the physician. "I wonder what choice Arthur will make, his freedom or the life and safety of his friends. Don't you too, Gaius?"

"No" the old man replied. He had always known defeat when it had jumped in his face. It was a healer's prerogative. He only wished he had spared the Prince this unworthy charade. "We both know what his choice will be!"

"I've told you to _trust_ me, old friend. Why can't you? What makes you so sure that this is the last move of the game?"

She went to a small dressing table by the window, opened it and showed Gaius another small bottle, much like the one he had in his pocket.

The healer looked at it, at the description of ingredients that was attached to it and frowned. He took a closer look and his face became as white as chalk.

"What have you done, My Lady? For the Gods' sake, Lordegrade…"

"It helped me" she said serenely and stroked his cheek affectionately. "As we both have always known that it would help me. Until the very end!"


	32. The light was rimmed with darkness

**32. ****For us the light was always rimmed with darkness**

Arthur did not turn when he heard his uncle approach him. "I take it Gaius has kept his side of the bargain and worked his little miracle on you!" he said flatly.

"You should hear our friend O'Brian. He's one step short of declaring the old man a saint. First the ingenious diplomatic skill of persuading Uther's 'hidden accomplices' to accept your friends as hostages, then my resurrection from the dead in the very last second – you know, I fear he will offer the old man a job at _his_ estate."

"At least Gaius would be out of your reach there!"

Yvain sighed, giving up his futile attempt at humour. "Arthur, I admit I have been a complete fool. I should have listened to your moth….. to Lordegrade much earlier." He took him by his shoulders and forced the Prince to face him. "But this is all over now. I know it wasn't easy for you to play the coward who sacrificed his friends to save himself but…."

Arthur laughed out loud. It was a laugh without joy or amusement. "You think _that's_ my problem? That I had to convince your precious ally that I would send my friends to their deaths rather than myself? What do I care about O'Brian? To hell with the pompous idiot!"

"Aren't you glad that Uther and the others are free and safe?"

"Yes, very! I only wished I could have gone with them!"

The Duke swallowed hard under the young man's accusing stare. "Let's not argue, Arthur. You cannot have what you like so you should learn to like what you have. I fear the platitude has been made for situations like yours."

Arthur shuddered and he broke free from his uncle's grip forcefully. "Go to hell!"

"Not yet!" Yvain stated drily. "Not even to please you, my boy!"

"It had very nearly pleased your wife!"

The Prince had the satisfaction of seeing his captor turning very pale. It took the older man a moment before he could reply to the vicious remark. "You certainly have a clever tongue, Arthur Pendragon, I grant you that." He pulled himself together visibly. "In your own best interest, you should watch it!"

"Or _what_? Tell me, mastermind, what are you going to do to me if I don't?"

"Right now I am willing to accept your wish to lash out at anyone and anything. But I will not tolerate such behaviour forever. And I _will_ find ways to remind you of who I am if necessary, I assure you!"

"Until then, is it too much demanded of Your Grace to leave me alone?"

"For the moment, no. But for the people here you are still my only son and heir. I expect you to resume your official duties in a few days."

"Oh do you indeed" Arthur said. "Tell me, do you ever listen to your own mad talk?"

His artificial calm quickly turned into something else when he continued. "You took me by force, you robbed me of my home, the people I love, you had me tied up and beaten like an animal and you expect me to _resume my official duties_?"

He drew a deep breath before he continued "chain me down, lock me in or beat me to death, I don't care, but spare me your god-damned hypocrisy. I am _not_ your son, you bloody idiot; can't you get that into your head? You can keep me as your prisoner, even as your slave for the rest of my life; I can't hinder you. But nothing, _nothing_ you'll ever do can make you my _father_! Your child is dead, dead and rotten. Not even your powers can bring him back to life!"

Provoked beyond endurance he trembled with rage and despair. "A life for a life, a son for a son, was that the original idea? What on earth have you gained by chaining me to the carcass of a child that has never been born?"

Breathless, he fell silent, not knowing what more there was to be said. Helplessly he waited for the other man's reaction that took some time in coming.

"I did not know you remembered that much of what I once shared with you" Yvain finally said. "I thought you'd… but never mind. I see that there's no talking to you for the moment."

He turned to leave but then changed his mind. "I only came to let you know that I talked it all through with Lordegrade and she...convinced me of a few things. You need not worry about Gaius and I certainly won't go after my brother or your friends again. As long as they stay away from me – and you! – they're perfectly safe."

Arthur felt strangely numb and empty after his outburst. This was like wading through quicksand, wherever he turned, he'd drown. "Thank you" he said without thinking. And why not? This was all an absurd dream. _Yvain's_ dream and it would go on and on to all eternity.

"As for yourself – I've asked you before not to make this harder on you than it has to be. Arthur, please…"

Fascinated the Prince stared at the older Pendragon. Doubtlessly he was speaking in earnest, reasoning with an insolent child; the loving, patient parent, trying to convince the little darling before he had to punish him. A son he had wanted and a son he would have, no matter what.

Gone were all thoughts of clever escape plans, of fighting back, even of killing the man. A fly might get caught in a spider's web and struggle a while but who had ever heard of a fly that had defeated the spider?

There was no hope, actually there had never _been_ hope. Camelot, Merlin, Uther, even Guinivere – they weren't real.

Reality was _here_. Yvain the great magician had created himself a wonderland where he could twist the rules at will and Arthur had walked through the mirror and fallen right into it. One way road. Period.

It was _that_ simple. If only he had understood it earlier.

Not loneliness, not mortification, not pain, nor homesickness or fear had broken his spine. Hope had. The illusion that there was something he or anyone could do when indeed there was nothing.

People had got it all wrong. Hope was no saviour. Hope was a tormentor, nothing else, a skilled tormentor that broke a man's will bit by bit, without ever touching his skin or flesh.

The Duke cleared his throat. There was something in the young man's face and eyes, something he had seen in Lordegrade's features and learned to fear much more than death.

"I believe you need some time to think things over" he said, for once unsure of himself and of what to do or say. "Gaius would like to see you later. You can tell the guards when it is convenient."

"No" Arthur said. "It will never be convenient. I don't want to see him. Not now, not ever. Tell him that."

"As you wish." Yvain left with the disquieting impression that his victory had been a costly one. But as always he put his worries to the side soon enough.

Gaius accepted the message with outer calm but with an inner hurt that was breathtaking. This was all wrong. Lordegrade's plan had one flaw – it took too long in working out. A human soul could only take so much.

For the next few weeks he watched his Prince from a distance and marvelled at the young man's ability to function in apparent ease and casualness while his soul was dying inside him step by step.

Arthur obviously lost weight. He almost never smiled, unless he had to. His behaviour was perfect in form but devoid of feeling or any other sign of life.

On more than one occasion Gaius thought that Yvain _had_ to see what was happening in front of his very eyes but he never did. The same enigmatic mental mechanism that had enabled the Duke of Cornwall to love his wife through her betrayal and through her sickness, even through her recent attempt at his life now made it possible for him to live in a blissful fool's paradise in which he had a loving and most loyal son.

As for Arthur's attitude towards his alleged 'mother' the old healer had guessed correctly. For no obvious reason but his need to love and trust _someone,_ the young prisoner blamed only Yvain for his ongoing captivity. All the while Arthur desperately clung to the woman who had made sure that Uther could take Guinivere and Merlin with him but not his son.

The Duchess of Cornwall most surely had proved herself a fair judge of character.

When she finally fell ill Arthur couldn't have been more shocked if she had truly been his mother. He came to Gaius on his own accord with a bunch of anxious questions; all his former apprehension of meeting someone who had been part of his former life forgotten.

"You can spare him the truth no longer" Lordegrade whispered one evening when Gaius administered his alleged treatment. They both knew that there was no cure for what was ailing her. The potions she had taken regularly over so many months had cleared and healed her mind but destroyed her body bit by bit.

"Gaius, you must tell Arthur the truth" she said more urgently. "Yvain may ignore it but I can see that Arthur won't stand this much longer. Do you think I tormented myself like that only to die in the knowledge that we'll leave him behind broken into pieces, maimed for life?"

"No" the healer said firmly. "He's lost one mother and he and all of Camelot have been made to pay dearly for Igraine's death by one Pendragon. I will not be the one who makes Arthur suffer from guilt and remorse because another Pendragon's wife has sacrificed her life for his sake. Sorry, but I will not make you a saint in his eyes!"

"As you wish" she smiled but then she started to cough. When Gaius let go of her head her handkerchief was full of blood and she desperately fought for breath. "Not long now" she murmured breathlessly.

"If you ask my opinion you will not live out the next week" Gaius said. "If you have something left to say to anybody I'd strongly advise you to do it soon!"

"Has anyone ever told you that your bedside manner is somewhat unique?"

"Yes! But I never cared. Why should all the carelessness in this world go to the Pendragons?"

"You're right. We have been careless, all of us, Yvain, me, even Uther. Careless with each other and with everyone else who came into our lives. It has to stop now. Would you call Yvain to me, please?"

"I'll tell the guard."

When he came back to her side he found her combing her hair with her fingers. "Gaius?"

"What is it?"

"How do I look?"

It caught him completely off guard. He tried to hold fast to his anger and silent accusations against her but he couldn't. "You look marvellous!" he said hoarsely. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen and a great Lady! You haven't changed."

"Liar" she replied. "But thanks. It's what a girl would want to hear in such a moment."

Yvain's entry prevented Gaius answering to that and the healer retreated to another part of the room. There he pricked his ears, for once forgetting his usual discretion. Whatever she would have to say to him would be vital for some other people, too.

"My love!" The 'Duke's greeting formula rarely changed. He was a creature of habit, she'd always known that.

"Yvain!" she said lovingly. "You always make such haste to come to me when I call."

"And why shouldn't I? I want to be with you more than with anyone else."

"You shouldn't say that" she whispered musingly. "Indeed you should never have felt that way. What we had, this bond between us – it was wrong from the start. It was unnatural, unhealthy. We both were meant to take a place in the world, but we decided to leave it and build a world only for us."

"What are you talking about, my dearest? I would not give up what we have, not for all the riches in the world. You are the love of my life, my destiny."

"No, Yvain, I was your destroyer. Yours, my sons' and finally my own. Two magicians of our power, we weren't meant to be together, we were meant to aid the others but in the end we couldn't even help ourselves."

"My love, this is your old ailment talking out of you, it's just a minor setback, Gaius will set it right in no time, you'll see. How wise you were when you asked him to stay with us."

"He does not stay with us, he's staying for Arthur's sake. You – we - had no right to bring the boy here in the first place."

"But he did wonders for you, didn't he? I'd never thought you could be restored to me like that. You love him as much as I do, I know that."

He took her hand and pressed his lips on her fingers fiercely. "How very clever of you to get rid of Uther and the others without any more bloodshed." He smiled again. "But then you were always cleverer than me. Now, finally, everything will be all right for the three of us, as it should have been from the start."

"Yvain, please, you must see reason. You can't keep him. He's not a toy, he's a person, he feels, he thinks. He's not yours to play with."

Gaius heard her voice becoming strained and agitated. Lordegrade was definitely using up her last strength in trying to convince Yvain but why she should do this, now, that they were both doomed anyway, the healer did not know.

"That was where we went wrong. This brought darkness where we thought we'd find the light of our life. Don't you see?" she now asked her husband urgently. "For good reason you had no right to have both magical and worldly power but you stole Tintagel anyway. You took me for a wife, destroying the Blessed Isle's foundation in the process. Our children would have been a danger to all, but you fathered my second son and he died before he had lived. I was not meant to be the Queen of Camelot but I tried to steal Igraine's Crown and it cost Endred's life. You took away Uther's mother, his father, his title and heritage and finally his best friend until he killed our kind by the hundreds. As a substitute you began to steal the Druids' children. Now you want to steal yourself a son, pluck him from a tree, like a fucking apple. Where shall it end, Yvain?"

"I've always known that you deserve only the best" he replied. "You were born for the greatest of destinies. I would have done much more to make this true. I didn't want to live without you then and I could not live without you now. Everything is going to be fine, you'll see."

"Tell me something, my sweetheart. If it had been me who took the poison, would you have let your brother and the others go to save my life?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Only to bring them back as soon as I was safe?"

"You know me well enough to know the answer to that. As much as I am sure that O'Brian would have had all their heads if Gaius had let me die."

Lordegrade nodded gravely. "That's what I thought" she muttered, much weakened by talking that much, by keeping her wandering thoughts focused. "It was the only way."

"As I said, you're such a clever little darling, my sweet love."

"I think you're the only person in this world who ever thought me to be sweet. Or little."

He smiled at her with all his love and shook his head.

"Yvain, please, kiss me!"

He bent down to her and kissed her lips, then he buried his face into her neck.

She raised her hand and caressed his hair very tenderly. "I know that you cannot live without me, my dearest. That's exactly why."

"_No_!"

Yvain's scream both brought the guards inside the room and Gaius to the Lady's bed but it was too late. Whatever Lordegrade had laced her last potion with, it had worked in an instant. When the healer touched her neck her heart had already stopped beating.

The Duke was dumbfounded, oblivious of his surroundings, raving madly as soon as realization that she was gone hit home.

They all came running for his screaming. O'Brian, the courtiers, the servants and finally Arthur.

When Yvain's magic ran amok they all made haste to leave, even the Lord. Only the Prince stayed at Lordegrade's side, watching Yvain's antics and the havoc his uncontrolled magic caused with a mix of horror and fascination.

Fleetingly the healer thought of Merlin and his happiness with Arthur knowing him as a magician now and not taking it against him. "_He doesn't give a damn!"_ had been his words and he had been so proud that his pet Pendragon had stood by him in spite of all his father's teachings. What would the Prince think now of people who had magic? Would he still be lenient or had this been enough to turn him back to his father's side? What of Uther's willingness to make an exception of his son's friend and guardian angel?

However, not even these musings could keep the healer's attention away from the Duke for long.

Virtually everything now depended on whether Lordegrade had been right. And whether the old spell would work. If it had indeed been superstitious nonsense all the time, just a stupid Pendragon family legend, he might as well prepare a potion for his Prince, to ease his passing from this mad world. Now that Lordegrade was dead he'd surely get no chance to stuff the poison down Yvain's much more deserving throat.

Gaius was disappointed in his hopes. It took two days but finally Yvain got his senses back. Indeed he recovered enough to accept the condolences of the Court and of his friend and ally.

He organised the burial ceremony himself, as cool as you please.

Arthur made himself scarce. Very scarce. He stayed in his room whenever he possibly could. This time not even O'Brian found this strange. Nor did Yvain and Arthur made the most of his sudden freedom to stay away from them all.

Gaius just bowed silently when Yvain gave him the order to take care of embalming Lordegrade's body.

He was just at it when to his greatest astonishment Arthur sneaked inside the infirmary through the back door.

"Sire?"

"Gaius would you help me, please?"

The physician let go of everything he was doing. "What makes you think you have to beg for my help? You, of all people!"

Arthur actually blushed with shame. "It wasn't exceptionally kind of me to push you away like that."

"My Lord, I am an old man but I beg you not to insult my intelligence. I wasn't glad to hear that you did not want to see me in private but I perfectly understood your reasons!"

The Prince nodded, glad that his apology – and it had been one – had been accepted so graciously. His eyes wandered to the body on the table and he swallowed hard.

"I am glad she does not know that she did it for nothing" he said. "My uncle is in the rudest of health, thank you very much!"

The healer's eyes widened. "You _knew_?"

Arthur smiled ruefully. "Not at first, I didn't. But when Maddox heard that she had fallen mysteriously ill and finally killed herself he thought that she might have tried to take her other half with her to the other world."

"_Maddox_ is here?"

"He and Merlin. They ran away from my father, the bloody idiots!"

Gaius needed a chair as well as a while to find back his faculty of speech. "Dear Gods!"

"That's what I said when they anticipated me in the stables the day after Her Ladyship had died."

"Where are they now?"

"In my rooms, where else?" Arthur combed with all ten fingers through his hair. "My most august captor will not allow me to lock myself away to all eternity. I need your help to persuade the damned fools to take to their heels. They do not want to leave me!"

"Where's your father with the women?"

"Back in the harbour town, lying low. Oh, for the heavens' sake, here I was thinking that they were all back safe in Camelot or in which ever hole Morgause thinks fit to dwell in."

"_Sounds as if Merlin has found a way to prevent you from just giving up on yourself_!" Gaius thought, embarrassed that he had actually believed that Uther and especially Merlin would ever forsake the centre of their life.

"I thought we might use my uncle's wish for a sleeping draught. He would doubtlessly check it for poison, you know he checks everything he eats or drinks. But I thought you could make it somewhat stronger. When he's out for good the guards take to their quarters early and his sorcerers enjoy a quiet evening, as long as I'm not around, that is. Which leaves O'Brian's men in charge of the gates. Gods, what a stupid way to run a citadel!"

"What would he wish a sleeping draught for?"

"For sleeping I would assume!"

"_Arthur_!"

"Sorry, Gaius. Frankly, I do not know and I do not care. Yvain scared the wits out of me when he dropped by unannounced an hour ago. I had hardly the time to stuff our self-styled two men rescue team under my bed. They are still there, playing hide and seek with the dust bunnies for all I know. My beloved uncle looked tired, nothing else. Small wonder. Only last night he forced me – he'd call it an invitation of course – to spend almost all night with him. Can't stand to be alone right now. Who'd blame him. He's a monster but he loved her!"

"As did you, if I remember correctly!"

Arthur shrugged and again his eyes wandered to the covered body on the table. "She was...kind to me when I needed nothing more than kindness. Do you blame me for repaying her?"

"No" Gaius replied. "I'd never blame someone for being kind."

The Prince smiled and for many weeks it was the first genuine smile he showed to anyone. "Thanks, Gaius. Now, can I count on you being so kind as to tell these two madmen that they have to swing their arses out of here tonight, if possible?"

"Let me see our most revered Duke first, Sire. We shall make our plans after that."

The Prince nodded and turned to leave. "I'll see you later then!"

"Arthur!"

"What?"

"You do not consider accompanying them? Maddox is a very skilled magician. He could possibly take both you and Merlin with him. He would not need to pass the gates, you know. When Yvain is asleep Maddox could take you out with his magic alone."

Arthur shrugged again. "What good would it do, Gaius? Where should my father and I hide from His bloody Eminence? Sooner or later he'd get me back and this time nobody else would survive. You know that as well as I do! You have been on the Blessed Isle, you understand his power much better than I do!"

He shook his head. "He wants me. He's got me. End of story. I'm willing to leave it at that, but not if he has hostages again or if anyone is killed for it. Will you help me convince them to leave?"

"Surely, Sire! Just give me a moment with your uncle."

After the Prince had left, Gaius went back to work for another half an hour. When he had finished the body was safe from further decay albeit it was not yet presentable. That would come later. "You better press your thumbs, My Lady, wherever you are now."

Gaius found Yvain in Brecan's company. The slimy Druid was not very amused by the encounter with his competitor. He began to jibe at Gaius' inability to safe the Duchess.

"I trust the Prince would be most interested in your opinions, Brecan" Gaius said. "You should see him right now and talk to him!" As Camelot's head physician had anticipated this was more than enough to put the man in his shoes. Mumbling something to himself, Brecan left them without so much as asking the Duke's leave.

With one closer look at Pendragon, the old healer could see why the usually gutless Druid should permit himself such an impertinence.

"_Dear Gods, he's drunk!_" Gaius thought. "_Roaring drunk!_" Aghast he watched Yvain labouring to his feet and trying to walk towards him. After one single step he stumbled and fell, grabbing uselessly for a hold at a small table with some pieces of bone china on it that went down with him in a horrible crash.

Uther Pendragon's best friend heard footsteps on the stairs outside, doubtlessly heading for this room. He watched the man who had become the nemesis of Camelot's King and Prince squirm helplessly among the rubble before the otherwise so proud aristocrat threw up and soiled himself from top to bottom.

Gaius' hands, the hands of a surgeon, were much stronger than they looked. Quietly, almost gently the old healer bent down, took a firm hold and ripped the Duke of Cornwall's neck apart.


	33. A last moment's downfall

**33. A last moment's downfall**

"_Please, this mustn't be true_" Arthur thought while he ran through Cearcean's vast corridors at top speed. He ignored the people's intrigued looks. "_This can't be happening_. _Not now!__"_

He reached the late Duke's office and the guard saluted him before the soldier banged the door open. Arthur virtually shot into the room. "What's going on here?"

O'Brian turned towards him and cocked a brow. "Your Grace! What a pleasure to see you."

Arthur's heart raced when his eyes fell on Gaius' battered body. With his hands bound behind his back the old man stood in front of the desk, bent over, obviously in pain. A viciously smirking Brecan at his side.

"How dare you arrest him without consulting me first!" Arthur growled. "This is outrageous! Release him at once!"

"Unfortunately this is not possible. I have a valid accusation of murder against him which by the law of the land has to be investigated. As you dismissed it off hand, Master Brecan here had no other choice but to come to me with it."

"My Lord O'Brian, may I remind you that Duke Yvain and his wife are lying in the castle crypt, waiting for their funeral. _I_ am the Master here. And I say that Brecan is an imbecile who has no idea what he's talking. Now release my friend before I am forced to order my men to do it for you!"

"Since last night you have become very grand my boy. Your father's body is still warm in his clothes!"

"My behaviour is no concern of yours. Nor are my decisions! I regret that it should come to this with such a trusted friend of the late Duke but you leave me no choice." Arthur opened the door again. "Guards!"

The moment the men entered, the Prince pointed at O'Brian and Brecan. "Until further notice His Lordship is confined to his quarters. And take this creature to the dungeons!"

When the men made no move to carry out his orders Arthur spurred them. "What are you waiting for?"

The Baron smiled with tight lips. "They are waiting for _my_ orders, my boy. Let's just say there are too many open questions for their taste. And for mine!"

Only now the young Pendragon realized that the guards were no soldiers at all. He had seen these faces in his uncle's company on many occasions. Yvain had always preferred a guard of trained warlocks.

An unwelcome feeling crept on the young man. "What does this mean?"

"It means that your father was my friend, maybe the closest I've ever had. I feel responsible for him as well as for his Lady. This so called physician was with the Duchess and with your father when they died. He treated your mother with heaven knows what, he was alone with your father when Yvain broke his neck. And you see no reason to start an investigation, in fact you threaten Brecan with incarceration and severe punishment when he comes to you with his well based suspicions?"

The young Duke tried to calm down before he spoke again. "My Lord, I assure you, Gaius is a most trusted friend of my family, especially of my father. These accusations are devoid of any substance. The Duchess committed suicide, Yvain was with her when she did it. As for the Duke, Brecan here left him at Gaius' entry. Your own witness can testify for Yvain being boiling drunk in that moment. He tripped and fell and there's an end to it."

"I can do no such thing!" Brecan chimed in. "When I left His Grace he was as sober and clear minded as you are now, My Lord!"

Pendragon did not trust his ears. "That's a lie! You bloody son of a bitch, how dare you..."

"Arthur, you weren't there when your parents died, in both cases you came to the scene later on. You have only Gaius' word for your mother's suicide and for your father's state when he died."

"Duke Yvain himself told me that Her Grace had taken her own life! Gaius..." Arthur turned to his friend for a confirmation and only now he saw that they had actually gagged the old man.

"Is this your idea of justice, O'Brian, to accuse an honourable man of murdering the Duke of Cornwall and then make it impossible for him to defend himself?"

Silently the Prince cursed last night's decision to stay in Cearcean. It had seemed such a good idea at the time. The four of them would all leave together under the pretext of a pilgrimage to a sacred shrine immediately after the funeral. This way, Arthur had said, nobody would grow suspicious and Maddox would not be forced to jump in and out of Cearcean at least twice, risking detection by Yvain's sorcerer guard. He had had this nightmarish vision of what would happen to whoever would still be trapped inside the castle if Maddox' activities were detected prematurely.

Suddenly the idea didn't seem so good anymore.

"I have my reasons for keeping him silent right now. As to your mother's suicide, your father never mentioned something about it to me!"

"So you now take this slimy creature's word over mine, My Lord?"

O'Brian shook his head. "I will pretend that I haven't heard that, Your Grace. But it's obvious that your affection for this old rascal is clouding your judgement. Yvain's friends and his men deserve an answer and an answer they will have once we've put this alleged healer on the rack."

With an indescribable feeling of dread Arthur felt the quicksand closing in on him once more.

His mind was suddenly filled with memories of Gaius being tied to the stake to be burned alive at Aredian's order, his body bruised and bloodied by the fists of men he had healed and cared for more often than he could remember. Gaius' soft, warm touch when he had used his forbidden magic to heal his imprisoned Prince's mutilated back. Gaius who had taken the hand of a little boy whose father had cursed him for his mother's death. "_If it hadn't been for him, Igraine would still be alive_!"

He also remembered Margath and his men. Their pain stricken faces lying in the mud. The two Camelot soldiers he himself had killed in his delusional state after Brianna's death. They had all died for him, one way or the other.

No more. Not now. Not ever.

"There's no need for that, My Lord" Camelot's Crown Prince stated and Gaius closed his eyes in helpless anticipation. "If you want to have a culprit, take me. If anyone at all then it's me who's responsible for the ducal pair's deaths. The old man had nothing to do with it. I will not tell you who carried out my orders. It's enough for you to know that I acted in self-defence!"

The older noble's eyes narrowed to slits. "In self-defence? Against your _own_ _parents_?"

"They were _not_ my parents. I am the only son of Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot in Albion. My uncle Duke Yvain had me abducted from my father's realm almost three years ago and has kept me prisoner ever since. Yvain's magicians should know that better than anybody else." With his last words he pointed at the alleged guards. When they kept silent and a straight face his hand fell helplessly to his side.

"See, My Lord? Exactly as I told you. I told you he'd try that ruse again. He's done it before!" The triumph in Brecan's voice that his detested enemy had fallen into his trap was unmistakable.

O'Brian's face fell, his features suddenly all sadness. "That's exactly what your father was afraid of. That your time as Uther's captive had triggered the illness you inherited from your mother."

"Lord O'Brian, please, you must believe me!" Despair tightened Arthur's throat. "I am not mad, I'm telling you the truth!"

"Arthur, this _is_ madness. Are you telling me that what Yvain told me about you being kidnapped by Uther the night my daughter died was a lie? That you, _you_, her fiancé, have had a hand in Brianna's death?"

Arthur shook his head again; exasperated by his inability to free himself from the intricate web of lies Yvain had woven around him. "No, of course not. I loved Brianna, at least I thought I did, I'd never hurt her. It was all a terrible misunderstanding..."

"A misunderstanding! Was it indeed. My child has been murdered by a _misunderstanding_? Damn you, I saw the arrow's wound in her chest with my own eyes!"

O'Brian grabbed Arthur's shoulders with both hands. "You came to us with your request for permission to marry her. You both were full of plans for the future. Yvain and you, you almost deafened me with your plans for Cearcean and my estate coming together. I still remember the way you looked at him, your enthusiasm, your love for him. And I remember the way you looked at my daughter. If you were his prisoner, why on earth should you have done that? And _how_?"

"_He was a sorcerer. He had me under a spell. I thought I was his son back then. He'd altered my memories by force. I was a mere puppet at his strings_" – the answers whirled in Arthur's mind but he knew that nothing of this would ring true to O'Brian's ears. Hell, if he were in the man's shoes he himself would not believe these wild stories.

Helplessly he looked at Yvain's carefully misled friend.

"You commanded his guard, you trained his knights, day in, day out" the Baron continued. "You have been on patrol for days since Brianna's death, I've seen you leaving Cearcean and returning to it on your own free will many times. Not the behaviour of a wretched prisoner, eh?"

"I had no choice" Arthur murmured. "He had hostages. My disobedience would have been their death."

"Are you talking of the wretched girl and your young friend Merlin who have been killed by Uther?" Desperately O'Brian shook the Prince's shoulders. "Arthur, wake up. You're not yourself."

He let go of the younger man and sighed. In his back Arthur saw Brecan's face, full of gloating as well as Gaius sad gaze. Forced into silence the old man could only shake his head. "_Let go Arthur. Save yourself, for the Gods' sake! Save Merlin."_

Briefly the Prince returned his friend's gaze with a rueful smile. Then his hand pulled the sword out of O'Brian's sheath. The same movement cut the Lord's sword belt and it fell down, taking O'Brian's dagger and hunting knife with it.

Swiftly the young Duke twisted the other man's arm on his back and pressed the blade's sharp edge to his throat.

O'Brian was completely taken by surprise. "What are you doing Arthur?" he gasped.

"Taking back what is mine" Pendragon hissed. "I have no idea what you thought you're doing here but I will teach you who's boss in Cearcean! Now order your friends to release Gaius! Do it now!"

O'Brian winced when the sword cut into his skin. "Release him, Brecan!" he said hastily.

"Stay back or he's dead!" Arthur snapped at Yvain's men when they approached him.

"I don't think so" one of the sorcerers smiled.

Arthur knew what was happening to him even before the all too familiar numbness ran through his body. With a yelp of rage he pushed O'Brian forward violently. The Lord collided with the sorcerers. For a short moment their concentration wavered and Pendragon was free of the restraining spell.

Arthur knew that none of the sorcerers would be stupid enough to come within reach of his sword, so he jumped to the old healer, trying to at least free Gaius before it was too late.

Still in the movement the Prince felt Brecan's attempt more than he saw it. While the little dagger with the poisoned point uselessly aimed for his skin Arthur wielded his blade and it hit its aim with deadly precision.

The Druid's eyes widened when the sharp blade cut through his heart. Absurdly, his face showed more insult and disappointment than pain when his knees gave way and he collapsed.

Arthur pulled his blade out of the falling body and turned to cut through the rope that bound Gaius' hands when his muscles abandoned him. He screamed in frustration and wrath as the sword fell from his limp hand. Powerless and paralyzed he had to watch one of Yvain's men grabbing Gaius from behind and taking his head in a stranglehold.

"Let go of him, A"artan" he said to his companion who was holding the Prince in his restraining spell. "If he as much as twitches his nose, I'll break the old scare crow's neck!"

Meanwhile O'Brian had scrambled back to his feet, his aghast eyes glued to Brecan's dead body, his hand fondling the cut in the skin of his throat.

His other hand pointed accusingly at the Prince. "Arrest him!" he shouted.

"With pleasure, My Lord."

Arthur looked at his old friend while A'artan forced his arms on his back and bound his wrists. "I am so very sorry, Gaius. Please, forgive me!"

The Prince could not see the old man shaking his head in sorrow because O'Brian's hand in the heavy leather glove hit Arthur's face with vicious force.

"I didn't want to believe it when Brecan came to me with his accusations against you. I didn't want to believe that I had agreed to entrust my daughter to a man who was able to murder his own parents. You couldn't wait for your inheritance, eh? Now you can wait for it in hell!"

Slowly Arthur raised his head and returned the Baron's stare. "There was only one murderer in Cearcean and that was your precious Yvain. If you weren't so blinded by your own self-righteousness you'd let Gaius tell you a few stories about your 'friend'. For example how he'd poisoned my father's mother as well as his own liege and father. Or how he used you to conjure up the perfect way to publicly torture his own brother to death, my father. And before my very eyes while he held the two people I love most as hostages to keep me still!"

He gasped when O'Brian squeezed his chin. "You are lucky that I am a defender of the law" the Lord hissed. "Otherwise I'd have your tongue cut out before it can go on squandering such filth about a great man."

Disgusted, he pushed Arthur's face to the side. "I'll schedule a trial for tomorrow. I'll preside over it myself. They'll both die a traitor's death. Until then, I'll have no more of this talk if I can hinder it. Gag the young bastard!"

Hidden behind one of the big leather chairs a small dormouse peeped cautiously at the scene. It winced when it saw that the sorcerers carried out O'Brian's order with much gusto.

For a second the mouse considered following the Prince and his healer friend when they were dragged to the dungeons but then it thought otherwise. Hastily it made its way back to the Prince's quarters.

Once safely inside, the mouse shook itself most violently. It retched pitifully as its belly began to swell, then its head. Its eyes flashed golden repeatedly. Suddenly the air swirled and flashed with light. When the wind died down, a shaking Maddox sat on the carpet, one hand pressed against his mouth, the other one against his stomach.

"If you want to throw up, please spare the carpet." Merlin said sarcastically. "I must admit, I like it. Which is a good thing actually; since I spend so much time on the floor lately."

"Gods, I hate being an animal" Maddox said and belched again. "It's so ….degrading!"

"Oh, poor you" the young warlock replied. "What do you think it feels like to be knocked out every time it pleases you, only to find oneself tied up by one of your nice little spells in a dusty corner?"

"Oh! Sorry, little brother!"

Sighing Merlin climbed back to his feet once Maddox had loosened his spell. "By the way, you might want to get rid of these whiskers. They may be very becoming in a mouse but not in a man's face."

Maddox rushed to the nearest mirror and swore at the sight of the ridiculous mouse whiskers under his nose. Hectically he muttered another short spell and the offensive hairs vanished. Damn, he had to take better care in future. Especially while this annoying good-for-nothing youngster was around.

"You know, Merlin, if you weren't the headstrong stubborn brat you are, I wouldn't be forced to do this to you all the time."

"Oh, now it's my fault."

"Yes, it _was_ your fault. When Arthur ran out of here at the news of Gaius' arrest someone had to follow him. I can run through Cearcean unnoticed and unrecognised. You can't. But naturally that did not keep you from trying!"

Merlin lowered his gaze and kicked the floor with the top of his foot. Better change the subject when you are on the losing side of an argument. One of Arthur's teachings. One of the better ones. "So what happened?"

"Arthur has been taken to the dungeons. First light tomorrow morning O'Brian will officially charge him with murdering his so called parents."

"_What_!"

"Seems as if our dear Lord wants to see both Arthur and Gaius on the scaffold before tomorrow's sunset!"

The last remnants of mirth and humour left Merlin for good and his face was drained of all blood. "This can't be true!"

"I assure you, it is. I heard him say it and I saw these idiots A'artan and Morffwyn tie the Prince up and drag him away. They're nuts but they're serious about it. They want to repay Yvain for taking them away from their families and villages by serving him up to the bitter end. They always were his lap dogs. Bloody fools, but that's how it is!"

"Why the hell didn't you just grab them both and jump out of here?"

"Merlin, I was a _mouse_. Besides, my dear compatriots might be idiots but they are powerful. Together they are stronger than me. They are the warriors, I am the spy. And doubtlessly they are going to guard the prisoners themselves which makes a gallant prison break impossible. I'd never be able to get past them, not before Arthur and Gaius are killed."

Merlin scoffed. "If you are too much of a coward, I will not stand by idly while my best friends are publicly humiliated and subsequently murdered. That's not why I came here!"

"No, Master Sorcerer, you came here to get yourself killed. A great comfort it will be for the Prince and your guardian to know that you have predeceased them."

"I will find a way, just watch me!"

"Little brother, you did not even make it out of Uther's quarters without my help. By the way, should the King ever see me again, he'll have my hide for it. He promised Arthur to take care of you when he was forced to leave him in this godforsaken place, remember?"

"Don't call me that, I'm not your brother!"

"You could be. I remember when I first was forced to wear these nice little bracelets I reacted equally stubborn. I tried even harder to be the strongest magician of them all, although I knew that my magic was captured."

"Oh, spare me the sad story of your life!" Frantically Merlin tried to rip the bracelets of his wrists, with the foreseeable results.

While he was lying on the carpet – again! - writhing in pain, trying ever so hard not to scream or lose consciousness he felt Maddox tousle his hair.

"You should have heard the sad story out. There came a day when the bracelets were no longer useful with me!"

The Druid smiled when he took Merlin's shaking wrists in his hands and mumbled something. The young warlock felt another wave of pain run through his arms but it subsided quickly. Triumphantly Maddox held his wrists up and Merlin saw that the bracelets which had kept his magic prisoner inside him for so long had vanished without a trace."

"Wait!" he said. "Wait!" He swallowed hard. Once. Twice. "Does that mean that you could have done this any time you wanted? That you let me wear these damned things although you could have freed me weeks ago?"

"And much good you would have done to your friend had you run back into the trap head over heels. I only took you with me this time because you would have come after me any way, even without your magic!"

When Merlin opened his mouth for a reply Maddox pressed his hand gently on his lips. "We don't have time for this now, little brother! Arthur and Gaius need our help. So far all is quiet outside but sooner or later even this thick-headed Irish noble will have the idea to search Arthur's rooms for more condemning prove. If we are found here, Arthur and Gaius are dead men, whether we are captured or not!"

Grudgingly Merlin had to admit that this was true enough. "What do you want to do?"

"I say we risk a little jump now that my dear fellow sorcerers are distracted by having the Prince at their mercy."

"Where are we going?"

"Do you know much about heraldry and documents?"

"No''! Merlin felt a pang of conscience, for this wasn't exactly true. Geoffrey of Monmouth had taught him a lot over time and Lancelot's faked patent of nobility hadn't come from nowhere. But nothing of this was Maddox' business.

"Then you are in for a crash course!"


	34. The perdition of wonderland

**34. The perdition of Wonderland**

The dawn of the next morning found the Prince of Camelot in his cell. A'artan had no trouble wakening him for Arthur hadn't slept at all.

"Time to get ready,Your Highness!" Roughly the sorcerer forced his captive to rise and took off the gag before he cut through the ropes at the Prince's wrists. He whistled at the sight of them. "Wasn't an altogether pleasant night in these restraints, eh?" he grinned. "However, His Lordship wants you to look your best for your trial."

Silently Arthur accepted the bundle of clothes that the magician handed to him. He saw that he had no alternative but to change in front of the other man and shrugged. What did this matter now?

"You really are something to look at" A'artan said, appraising the captive's naked body. "A pity it will all go to waste soon. The Ladies will cry their pretty little eyes out when you go to the gallows."

When this did not rattle his prisoner the magician frowned impatiently. "Listen, it's early and I haven't had my breakfast yet. I have no desire to waste my strength on a restraining spell right now unless I have to. So you better turn round and cross your wrists behind your back quietly."

"Where's Gaius?" Arthur asked while he obeyed the man's order. When the new ropes bit into his already mutilated wrists he gritted his teeth to suppress a yelp.

"In the cell next door. This morning's trial is very exclusive. Nobility only I'm afraid. But don't you worry; he'll share your verdict."

Against his will Arthur shied back nervously when he entered Cearcean's state room where O'Brian had set up the scene for the trial. It wasn't fear of what was to come that bothered him but the sight of the huge black-and-silver banner with the fighting dragon on it.

Yvain had never used the banner in Massilia and rarely ever in Cearcean. The sudden sight of it reminded Arthur painfully of his first arrival in Tintagel. The strange and yet somehow familiar crest had unsettled him as much as his then completely uncertain fate, long before he had known what it meant.

Strangely enough, A'artan did not push him forward at once. The Prince used this moment to scan the room for any sign of Maddox or, even worse, Merlin. However, he only saw what he had expected: A handful of Yvain's ranking courtiers who were trying to turn their coats. Mentally, if not yet practically, their coats showed an O'Brian crest already. The Pendragons had had submissive subjects here, but no friends.

When he spotted no sign of Merlin or the Druid spy, Arthur sighed with relief.

"It's a bit early for such moaning, Your Grace" A'artan said mockingly while his friend Morffwyn joined them. "You should save that until after the verdict has been given!"

"A'artan, tell me something" Arthur said very softly. "Why are you doing this? You _must_ know who I am. My uncle is dead. Why did you not confirm my story yesterday? What's in my death for you?"

"Is this so hard to understand?" A'artan hissed into his captive's ear. "You are a Pendragon, probably the last of the whole accursed breed. I am a Druid. What more is there to be said?"

Arthur pondered these words all through O'Brian's opening speech and the reading of the charges against him and Gaius; only when the Baron ordered him to rise and identify himself he was pulled out of his musings.

With a will he rose without swaying or stumbling although his arms were still bound behind him.

"I am Arthur Pendragon, Son of Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, and Queen Igraine!"

He ignored the partly astonished, partly offended murmurs and comments from the aristocratic jury and the audience. If he was to die for the Pendragons' sins he would not do so under false pretences.

O'Brian called the room to order. "So you still claim that you are not the son of the late Duke and Duchess of Cornwall? You admit that you are responsible for their deaths but you really want us to believe that you acted in self-defence?"

O'Brian looked around him and his statement was commented dutifully with derisive, unbelieving laughter.

"Indeed I do" Arthur replied firmly. "I will not beg you for mercy, only that you may spare the innocent old man you are holding in the dungeons right now. It was me who decided to once and for all end the threat that Duke Yvain posed to my real father and to my country."

"Neither you nor your accomplice will avoid justice by your ostentatious lies" the Lord said. "It is obvious that this so called physician aided you in your evil plans to kill your own parents so that you could claim your inheritance earlier than nature and duty would have allowed."

Arthur lowered his head at this announcement of Gaius' certain death. O'Brian continued talking but the Prince no longer listened. "_Keep safe, Merlin_" he thought. "_Please, you __silly idiot_. _My father will have need of you when this over. And Guinivere. Please, I beg of you, don't do anything foolish. Just take to your heels and run__._"

For the next 30 minutes the Lord went meticulously through the whole procedure of a court trial. Frequently he addressed his prisoner but Arthur did not answer. Finally O'Brian lost his patience and threatened to loosen the defendant's tongue on the rack.

The unworthy threat at least won him the Prince's attention. "Do what you think you have to do" Arthur spat out contemptuously. "It will change nothing, neither who I am nor what Yvain Pendragon really was!"

"We shall see, my boy. We shall see. At least it will teach you to take this court seriously! Guards..."

Arthur braced himself for what was to come now when suddenly all eyes turned to the door where a small, corpulent man had appeared who now made his way towards the judge's bench, puffing and panting while his face was covered in sweat.

On his arrival he bowed several times, most pompously. "Zachary Timoteous Leodegrance of Morton, Your Worship" he said breathlessly. "His late Grace's archivist. Head archivist, as I may add in all modesty. Yes. Yes. Humble I may be but His late Grace never attempted any big deal without me, yes, this I may say about myself, in all humility of course. Yes."

Visibly restraining himself with some effort O'Brian waved at the man. "Damn your eyes, we all know who you are. When Duke Yvain and I signed the marriage contract for my daughter and this...this venomous snake of a son you were with us. What do you want?"

"Indeed Your most august Lordship, indeed I was, what an excellent memory you have, but so, as I may add in all modesty, have I."

O'Brian rubbed his eyes. He felt a considerable headache building up behind them.

"My Lord?" A'artan had taken hold of Arthur's arms, ready to execute O'Brian's last order and take the prisoner to the rack.

"Your Honour may wish to postpone the torture a bit" Zachary said most friendly. "I take it that this young man's true identity is vital for the result of this trial?"

"Yes" O'Brian said without thinking. Some of Yvain's former escort and courtiers exchanged disquieted looks at that.

"Then perhaps I may present these documents which I have kept hidden at the late Duke's request until now. Yes. Yes. I took them out of the family records, as ordered. What a careful man your late uncle was, wasn't he, Your Royal Highness?"

Without further ado he smiled casually at Arthur; then he banged a thick bundle of documents on O'Brian's table and turned proudly to the audience.

"What Royal Highness?" O'Brian asked dumbfounded.

The head archivist shrugged and pointed at Arthur. "This young man is exactly who he claims to be. Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot; the Duke's nephew as well as his pet prisoner, so to say. At least for all I know the young man neither came nor stayed voluntarily!"

Silence filled the room.

Zachary smiled benevolently at a still rattled O'Brian. The small archivist bent closer to the judges' bench and whispered so loud that nobody had a chance to miss his words "You may think it wise My Lord, to end this before it becomes an embarrassment. This young man may have had every reason to kill his captor in order to save his King and country, even though he had no chance to save himself. But I am pretty sure that His late Grace, may he rest in peace, died of natural causes."

He looked around conspiratorially and then he actually waved at the still confounded Baron to bend his ear to him.

"His Grace told me himself that he had had trouble sleeping after Her Ladyship's suicide. In my presence he asked Brecan for a sleeping draught. But the idiot must have brewed a potion that would have stoned an ox. I know what I am talking about, he once did the same for me and I broke my arm when I tried to reach my...my..." he sniggered embarrassedly and blushed with shame "my private cabinet, to relieve myself!"

Expectantly he looked at O'Brian's face. He wasn't disappointed. "Maybe Your Lordship wants to check the documents in private? A sojourn might be in order?"

"Yes, surely" the Baron said, his mind whirling with implications and possibilities. "A'artan, I belay my former order. Take the prisoner to my office. I want to talk to him while I examine these documents."

Much to the Baron's dismay, A'artan did no such thing.

"No!" the Druid shouted. "To hell with this farce. Who cares whose whelp he is? He's a Pendragon and he will die for it!"

Reflexively Arthur tried to struggle when the Druid grabbed his face from behind, covering his mouth with his hand; the same hated gesture which had always been the introduction to Yvain's special kind of telling family tales to his nephew. A'artan yelped when a boot kicked viciously into his shin but he did not loosen his grip. Instead he pulled his knife and put it to use.

Oblivious of the blade that pressed into his throat Arthur still tried desperately to free his mouth from the disgusted hand. The blade cut his skin and drew blood.

"Stay back!" O'Brian roared at everyone who had risen to approach the rebellious Druid and his victim. He needed time to assess the situation and once the bloody youngster's throat had been cut he would have no time anymore.

Lordegrade had judged the head of the O'Brian clan quite fairly. Not _all_ his motivation for this trial had been grounded in his friendship with Yvain.

"Yes, stay back or he dies right now!" Morffwyn had joined his friend once more.

"As you so aptly put it last night" Zachary said, with all the serene calm in the world, "I don't think so!"

Morffwyn never knew what hit him when Maddox shook off the disguise of the head archivist and let his magic lash out at him. The Druid warlock's spine was broken before he hit the wall.

Pleasurably surprised by his beginner's luck Maddox turned against A'artan now, assessing his chances to be faster than the knife which still threatened Arthur's life.

"Look who's back" A'artan said. "Our friend the traitor! Still making friends with the Pendragons?"

Maddox wanted to say something but he didn't get the chance. His eyes widened when a ferocious shot of magical energy hit him from behind.

Apparently there had been more than two survivors of Yvain's old guard! It was his last coherent thought.

A'artan felt his captive sink back into his arm at the sight of Maddox' fall and looked at the desperate face under his hand. "That's right, stop fretting my precious whelp, we'll make it out of here and then it will be only the two of us while my friends get rid of this fucking assembly of shit heads. Whatever I'll do to you, it will be quicker than the gallows!"

It was like a dream when suddenly all movement around him became slower and slower until time seemed to crawl. Arthur could hardly understand what A'artan was hissing into his ear. What he really felt was the hand losing hold of his face. He jerked away from it and A'artan suddenly vanished from his side altogether.

The Prince did not think it strange that the ropes that bound his wrists were suddenly gone.

Fascinated he looked at his warlock friend.

The sight of Merlin approaching the judges' bench had been the reason that he had given up his struggle. Now the young warlock sat comfortably on the desk directly in front of O'Brian who was frozen in time as much as anybody else.

"Wow!" Merlin said. "It never worked like that before! This is crazy. Just look at them! I've always been able to slow down time but to freeze it – that's a first!"

Arthur did not know whether he should laugh or cry. "I'm most impressed, believe me" he finally said. "Could we please go now? I hate to be the spoil sport again but there is Gaius in the dungeons and Maddox seems to be in need of help!"

"So everybody is in need of help except Your Royal Highness? Naturally you only pretended to be the helpless prisoner, as always."

"Merlin, I admit I was in desperate need of your help, I admit I missed you more than I missed my dogs and horses, I admit to each and everything you want but _after _we have left this fucking citadel for good!"

"So you admit that you were wrong when you said we'd stay on until after the funeral?"

"Yes!"

"And you admit that I was right when I said that we should leave at once?"

"Yes, Merlin!"

"And you admit that you should have listened to me more often?"

"Yes!"

"All right! You can go now. Take Maddox with you, he's out as a light, I think, but he should come to soon enough. I could not shield him from all the hostile energy but he should be able to bring you and Gaius out in no time!"

Arthur did not get it. "What about you?"

"There's a small problem" Merlin replied, looking the tiniest bit embarrassed. "When I saw this self-styled saviour of the Druids press his knife into you, I started this without thinking and I have no idea how to keep it up in my absence. As soon as we both leave, they will all be at our heels again. So I think I'll just sit here until I have a better idea."

"How long can you keep this up?" the Prince asked hoarsely. "Don't tell me this does not cost you strength on end!"

"A bit. Please Arthur, I know what I'm saying. You must go now in order to keep Gaius safe and you'll need Maddox' help."

"The only one I really need is you, you stupid idiot. I have as much desire to leave you behind as you would want to leave me."

Merlin's gaze turned away from the frozen scenery around him and met Arthur's intend eyes. "Naturally I could kill them all. I could not choose; I could not spare the one and kill the other but I could kill them all in the blink of an eye. It would be a piece of cake!"

His dark blue eyes were as innocent as they had always been. "Do you want me to? After all they did to you? After these last three years?"

Arthur looked at the grotesque figures that surrounded him. Absent minded he massaged his wrists. What a befitting end this would be for Yvain's Wonderland. A young peasant boy from Ealdor would snap his fingers and it would all be gone. The whole mad circus would vanish as if it had never existed and the nightmare would be over.

Was that what his father had thought when he had started the Great Purge? That if he killed enough magicians the nightmare of his life would fade out of existence? Had Yvain thought he could snap his fingers and have a family, a loving wife, a son?

"No, Merlin, I don't want you to kill them. Is there no other way?"

"I could make them forget all about these last years! I could delete their memories!"

"_Merlin have you ever used your magic like that? Have you ever done anything like this to anyone? –_

_No I have not. I'd never…..what do you take me for?"_

"Arthur, it wouldn't hold" Merlin said softly. "It would last only for a week or so. I am not Yvain." He smiled fondly. "You may say that I am a Pendragon by choice, not by blood!"

The Prince briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Then please be so kind as to make them forget us for a while, until we are all safely on our way home! To Camelot."

And for once Merlin did exactly as he had been told, without any further objections.

As soon as Maddox had regained enough of his senses to be his usual obstinate self he insisted that this time they would not take any risks.

He almost fainted when he delivered Merlin as the last one to the meeting point on the hill that overlooked the beautiful harbour, far away from Cearcean. But still he, Gaius and Merlin were of the opinion that this had been the safest way to make the journey. Who should know precisely how long their enemies in Yvain's citadel would be as sensible and rational as a bunch of frightened chickens?

While Gaius rummaged through his bag for something that might help the Druid warlock back to his feet and Merlin asked impatiently for more information about teleport jumps, most of all about the 'making of', Arthur went silently away and looked at the small town in which his father and the woman he loved were still oblivious to what had happened.

Only now he really understood what this sight meant for him.

Two years, 11 months and four days had passed since the mercenaries' attack in the forests of Camelot.

Almost three torturous years but now he was free.

_Free!_


	35. At the end of the day

**35. At the end of the day**

Arthur's heart raced when he touched the door knob. "It's locked" he said, suppressing a sigh of relief. He felt idiotic but he was scared by what was waiting for him behind that door. For years he had been dreaming of this moment and now he feared it more like hell.

"No, it's not" Maddox said, moving his nimble fingers a bit and the door opened invitingly. The Druid smiled like a cat that has eaten the cream before he turned to Merlin. "By the way, little brother, I think the two of us should go to the bathhouse first, to make us a bit more presentable."

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course. What a splendid idea. I'll join you!" That was Gaius chiming in and leaving Merlin no other choice but to reluctantly – most reluctantly – leave his Prince's side. He for one found nothing funny in Arthur's predicament.

"I'm coming too" the Pendragon Prince said but there he bit on granite.

"Sorry, Your Highness! Nobility excluded! As well as sons of prodigal fathers!" Maddox grinned and the three sorcerers made haste to get away.

The Prince inhaled deeply and braced himself before he entered.

"Halt! Who goes there?" Within an instant Arthur felt the sharp point of a blade at his throat.

"Leon, hold it, it's me!"

A small gasp, a hasty step and the knight came closer, most distrustfully. "Prince Arthur?"

"Yes, it's me, please, Leon, don't gore me. That's not what I came for!"

However, Leon had no intention to lower his blade; his memory of the men he'd lost to a deluded Prince in the hills of Cearcean was still too fresh in his mind. He scrutinized the young man in front of him but the point of his weapon never wavered.

Backing away from the threatening sword Arthur tried to reason with his former second-in-command as far as typical Pendragon kindness, empathy and a soft voice would take him. "This is ridiculous, man" he growled "put down that sword at once!"

"How am I to know if they put your brain through the wringer again after we had left you?"

Arthur sighed and raised his hands in a centuries old gesture of appeasement and surrender. He had feared a lot of things on his entry in Uther's present lodgings but being apprehended by a disappointed friend at sword point had not been among them.

"You've heard your Prince, Sir Leon. Put down that sword and let him in!"

Arthur froze at the sound of his father's voice, if with overwhelming joy or with apprehension and awkwardness not even he himself would have been able to say. Leon continued protesting to his King that nothing was clear here, let alone safe but neither Pendragon was listening. Uther's son hesitated a second longer before he pushed the sword aside as if it was made of paper. At first it was only a hesitant step, but suddenly he ran into his father's arms.

For one precious, unrepeatable moment in time nothing else mattered, no past, no future and nothing in between.

Uther could not believe his good fortune, not even while he felt his son's body in his arms, warm and real. He clutched him, dug his nails into his skin until it bled without noticing it. "My boy. Oh Gods, my boy!"

For a while there came no other coherent remark from any of them and Sir Leon began to feel more than a bit embarrassed by a sight that was most definitely not meant for his eyes. Or for anybody else's eyes, for that matter. Silently he slipped away, intending to alert the rest of the household to what had happened, but he didn't exactly make haste about it.

Finally Uther let go of his son, only to grab his face with both hands. "Arthur, is this really you? I can't believe it. Why… How?"

"They're both dead, father. Lordegrade took her own life and Gaius killed your brother."

"_Gaius_?"

"He broke Yvain's neck. Please father, he had no other choice!"

"I bet he hadn't. Dear Gods, Gaius is in the neck breaking business now. Who would have thought it possible."

Whom did he want to fool with his derisive remark and the artificial sneer? Still rattled to the bone Uther looked at his son. "And afterwards they let you go, just like that? You…I mean, you're _free_?" Anxiously his gaze went past the young man towards the door; as if he expected Cearcean's whole guard to come for them any moment now. Arthur winced when his father's hands grabbed him once more, pulling him into a protective embrace, wanting to shield him from every evil in this world.

"It's a long and twisted story. But there's nothing to fear, I am free, at least if we leave this country before O'Brian and the others in Cearcean have regained their senses."

"We _will_ leave. We will leave tomorrow, never to return; with the first ship that can take us."

Arthur closed his eyes when he felt his father's lips on his skin. Still he did not know whether he should feel awkward or happy about this and so he simply kept silent and enjoyed the feeling of being safe and welcome while Uther continued his feverish talk. "Believe me, I know the schedule of each and every ship in this bloody harbour by heart!" he exclaimed and his son did not doubt him.

The King granted some more moments of sheer bliss and happiness to both of them before he shoved his son away at arm's length to have a good long look at him. The bruises in Arthur's face where O'Brian had hit him as well as the lacerated wrists told him enough of the 'long and twisted story' to make him gulp down a lump in his throat. The angry cuts in the skin of his child's neck he preferred to ignore right now. That these cuts had been made by a knife being pressed against the Prince's throat was far too obvious for the scared King's liking.

Arthur saw his father's anxious eyes and knew what they saw. Self-consciously his hand came up and covered at least the marks of the knife while his eyes hastily turned away from Uther's face and lowered to the floor.

After the first moment of uncontrolled emotionality the usual restraint between them kicked back in and they both were at a loss of what to say or do.

"Have you eaten something?" was the final result of Uther's hard and hectic deliberations as to the appropriate handling of this singular situation. If he had known how typical this was for him he had kept silent.

"_Maybe my uncle has heard that my father prefers to socialize with me over a well filled plate, I don't know_!"

The memory of this special remark as well as of the circumstances under which he had made it was too much for an already overtaxed Prince and his overwrought feelings. Desperately he wished that Merlin had not run off. He was in dire need of somebody to vent his embarrassment on and the warlock was always perfect for that.

Arthur began to tremble. The tension and the fear of his nightmarish experiences overwhelmed his sense of propriety and the cramp that had kept a firm hold on his soul for so long loosened without his doing or control. Bitterly ashamed he felt tears running down his cheeks.

For so long now he had been deprived of real affection and closeness, forced to pretend feelings he did not have while all his real longings had been in vain as well as dangerous. Now his fight for composure was a lost one from the start. When his self-control finally gave way, Leon peeped through the inner door and retreated hastily, leaving the two Pendragons with the illusion of being alone and unobserved while Arthur cried his heart out.

Uther held him and stroked his back until the fit was over, glad that his son could not see that the King's eyes were also wet. At last Arthur regained his usual self-restraint and as if they were sharing one mind both men broke off the embrace at once. They distanced themselves from each other as if they had been bitten by something.

An uncomfortable silence came between them. One thing was certain, albeit nothing else: It went without saying that this had never happened!

Uther regained his rigid stance first. "Where's this good-for-nothing servant of yours?"

"In the bathhouse with Maddox and Gaius. Freshening themselves up!"

"Excellent idea. I'll give order to prepare a bath for you, too. You look – abominable!" With these most appreciative and kind words the King made his exit, calling his next remark over his shoulder. "I'll see you for breakfast?"

"Yes, father" Arthur replied steadfastly. "Why not?"

He stood there in the middle of the corridor where his father had left him, looking utterly forlorn. At least until somebody else sneaked upon him from the house's inside, someone who had no difficulties at all with being emotional when the hour called for it.

In fact, Arthur and Guinivere were _very_ emotional as soon as they had reached the room she shared with Morgana who was conspicuously absent all of a sudden.

Neither of them would have believed it to be the right moment for them, not with what Arthur had been through, physically and mentally. And definitely not with the way he smelled. But when he held her in his arms and kissed her, hungrily and desperately, nothing of this was important.

His lips searched hers, then her soft cheek, her neck and throat. "I love you, I love you so very much" and then they had finished talking for a while,

The bath had to wait. As had the breakfast and an impatient King. But for once, just this once in his life, Uther restrained himself. He waited. Waited for his son. Without snarling or shouting or cutting remarks or smashing things he waited.

It was one of the biggest presents Uther Pendragon had ever made to anyone and it went completely unnoticed.

Arthur was in a state of blissful semi-consciousness when he finally arrived and whatever his father said, it didn't get his real attention. So the King just sat back and enjoyed his son's presence. Only inwardly he suffered of remorse and disappointment. For years his eyes and ears had ached for this sight and sound and yet he knew that he had precious little time left to feast on it.

After a while he saw that Arthur had finished stuffing himself and was by now more than only half asleep. Uther helped his son into his bed and watched him fall into oblivion the moment his head hit the pillow.

The rest of the night the King spent at his son's side watching him sleeping. Not for a second he believed that this day's precious moment of perfect love and closeness between them would last.

The next morning, however, seemed to prove him wrong. Arthur was all kindness and very endearing and for once his father indulged his son's need of being loved and appreciated, something he had, in former times, suppressed whenever he had seen it in his child.

For a while Arthur kept this new, subtle vulnerability about him, especially when Maddox and Morgause took their leave. To the utmost relief of almost everyone concerned Arthur said farewell without his father being present. There still _was_ the small issue of Morgause's most dearest wish to see Uther Pendragon's heart blood spilling over her hands and not only Morgana thought it wise to put the better part of Albion between her sister and her former guardian, if only for Arthur's sake. And Merlin's but the latter motive she kept to herself.

"So this is good bye then" Maddox said. "I must say, Sire, it was almost a pleasure meeting you!"

"Almost?" The Crown Prince wasn't exactly used to this kind of humour - and it showed.

"Think about it, Arthur. After all I am a Master Sorcerer, a singular talent in my branch of work; I am a Druid from a very ancient bloodline of magicians, my ancestors have misspelled sorcery long before Pendragon sorcerers knew any spells at all."

"I maybe a Pendragon but I am no sorcerer."

"That much is obvious, My Lord. So you are not only a Pendragon, you are also a grya. The mere thought that someone like me should be indebted to someone like you." Maddox shook himself in mocked disgust. "It's so very degrading, I fear I must ask you to keep it to yourself!"

Slowly but surely Arthur tuned in with the Druid's method of making this separation easier. "What about me permitting you to marry my sister? Isn't that enough of a compensation for you?" he asked derisively. "Little mouse!"

Maddox narrowed his eyes to slits and began a fitting repartee but he never got the chance. "If you think that I need your permission for anything, you arrogant brat..." Morgause interrupted the banter heatedly. "What are you taking me for, you..." the rest of her indignant speech was drowned by Maddox and his somewhat hastened final good bye.

"Farewell, Arthur. And I trust when you have settled in and gotten over things you will not be averse to see Tintagel again, this time without the seals but with a bunch of happy Druids!"

He and the still shouting Morgause vanished in a whirlwind of magic energy. "Good bye, my friend!" Arthur muttered. "And thanks for everything!"

Uther was surprised to find his son visibly shaken by the sorcerer couple's departure. Pleasantly surprised to his own astonishment; especially as he had to admit, if only to himself, that he found this 'new Arthur' much more likeable than he would have thought. For more than twenty years he had fought to harden his son, to drive out or suppress the more tender streaks in his child's character. Now he wondered whether the sacrifice had really been as inevitable as he had always assumed.

However, things changed.

It began on their third day aboard the ship that would bring them to the Welsh Coast.

For some hours Uther had noticed that his son, while avoiding his company, could hardly take his questioning eyes off him. It was unnerving, to say the least. Finally the King could not stand it any more and beckoned his son to come closer. His heart sank when he saw that Arthur obeyed only grudgingly. This was it, then. The great debate he had tried to avoid at all costs.

"Why are you staring at me? If you have something to say, say it!"

The Prince avoided his father's gaze. "It's just that I….."

"It's just that you what?"

The King almost recoiled from the intent, almost accusing stare as Arthur faced him again. "I have to know it, father. When your brother … forced his version of the past on me it brought back so many memories of my own, of how you were when I was a child." He swallowed painfully. "Please, Sire, I have to know if what Yvain has told me is true."

Uther saw that all the others had abandoned them, bringing as much distance as possible between themselves and the two Pendragons. So everybody knew what this conversation would be about. Even this wretched girl who now had such an exclusive claim on his only son's affection would know each and every detail of the unsolved problems between father and son. Enraged but also hurt he shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was important, unavoidable and he would not get another chance. "As I understand it Yvain didn't exactly 'tell' you anything.

Arthur shuddered visibly under the memory of what his uncle had done to him. "No. He had other methods!"

"Then let me tell you that his methods, cruel and inhumane as they were, have one merit and one alone – you cannot tell a lie by them!"

"So it was all true?" It was obvious that Arthur, against his better judgement, had been hoping with all his heart for another answer. "You sacrificed my brother Endred, you and Gorlois cheated so that you could marry my mother and then you …used magic to have me born and let her die? Exactly as Morgause once told me?"

"Arthur, I said that Yvain could not have lied but he could only pass his version of events to you, not mine, not Gaius' or anybody else's. There is no such thing as an absolute truth in this world, only the truth of a person's own, singular memory. But one thing I know to be true above all else: I loved your mother more than my life. The way I now love you and will go on loving you until the day I die!"

Despairingly he saw distrust still covering Arthur's face.

"As for everything else I've done, thought or felt in my life" the King continued "I wish I could say I'm truly sorry but then I would be lying to you and this I will not do! I've made my mistakes, maybe some more than ordinary people would have made but then I never craved to be ordinary."

He cleared his throat nervously. There were still some things that had to be said and he felt that his soul depended on his son's judgment on these things. "As the Gods are my witnesses, Arthur, I did not murder my son or your mother. The only regret I have is that I did not kill Yvain when I had the chance, back then, on the Blessed Isle. He had deserved death a thousand times over for what he had done to my parents, to my realm, to Gorlois and to you. Most of all it would have spared you this whole horrible ordeal."

"But how could you bring yourself to kill all those innocent people when you yourself have used magic whenever it pleased you? When your own family had ….bred it into your very blood, as if their own children were merely a herd of cattle?"

"It's your family too and that's what's almost cost you your life!"

"Please, father, this is important, do not evade me. How could you kill all these people for nothing?"

Uther thought long and hard about an answer. At long last, he found one. "Merlin told me that he asked you if he should kill these people in Cearcean. But you refused, although it obviously was the safest way to get yourself and your friends out of there. After all they had done to you, after all your fear, despair and humiliation you still refused. I would not have taken that risk. I never did before and I never will do such a thing in the future. That's all I can say."

"What kind of an answer is that?"

"The only answer I can give you at the end of my day. At the end of your day you will have to say for what you stood up or bent down in your life. As for me, I did what I did not because I thought it to be right but because I thought it to be necessary. Apparently you prefer to do what's right. If you keep this up you'll never understand what drove my decisions. But if necessity catches up with you, ever, then you _will_ understand what I am telling you now."

Arthur tried very hard to comprehend this but he failed miserably, as Uther had known he would. At the age of barely 25, he'd never understood these words either. Life had taken some trouble and effort to teach him what they meant.

"What is this talk about the end of your day?" the Prince asked finally.

"I'm not coming back with you" Uther replied calmly. "Bringing the rightful heir back to the throne was my last duty as King of Camelot. I am no longer allowed into the realm!"

"But how….why…?" Arthur did not get it.

Uther grinned bitterly. "I degraded myself in the eyes of the people, I allowed my family affairs to interfere with the well-being and the reputation of the realm, I pressed for the execution of one of the country's leading aristocrats, I banned sorcery and killed dozens and dozens of people for a crime my own relatives committed freely and frequently and to my certain knowledge – shall I go on?"

Still speechless the son stared at his father.

"They are sick of me, Arthur" Uther went on. "Sick to their teeth. The Crown Council accused me of each and every governmental crime that has been committed since the days of the first Roman Emperors. Most of all they hold me responsible for endangering the life and well-being of their future King!"

"But this is outrageous!" Arthur had found his voice again. "You, of all people, endangering _my_ life?"

Uther lowered his head and shrugged. "I am not so very sure that they are wrong with that. From what I've heard only yesterday, this A'artan fellow wanted to slit your throat for no other reason than that I am your father and Yvain was your uncle. How many times before my ignominious past has threatened your life?"

He unwittingly straightened his sword belt, something he always did when he felt awkward or embarrassed. "They made an account for me, an account of each and every time when to their knowledge the heir to Camelot's throne had been threatened for something I had done. Arresting Khilgarrah and persecuting the Druids were among the highlights!"

"Father, I would never…."

"They will not listen to you in that" Uther interrupted his son. "You will have no say in the matter."

"Just watch me!" In an instinctive reaction the Prince tensed his muscles and took on something like a defensive stance.

Uther smiled lovingly. "Arthur, now that you're free I am no longer allowed to set foot on Camelot soil. It was the prize I had to pay for them not naming a new heir from their own ranks. It might have meant civil war but even that they would have preferred over my return to the throne!"

"You have _abdicated_ before you and the others left Camelot?"

"No" Uther said with more patience than he usually showed when he had to explain himself. "I was banished from the realm before we left. The moment I return my life is forfeited. _And _your claim to the crown."

Arthur's stomach twisted. He was almost overwhelmed with pity and sympathy without having any possibility to show it. Uther would rather die before he would accept it, especially from his own child. "What are you going to do?" the young man asked instead, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.

"Well, Tintagel is yours to do with as you please and as far as I have been informed you want to give it to Maddox and Morgause; so I can hardly go back to my home country. For obvious reasons Cearcean is not an option either. If you are wise - which I do not doubt! – you'll send a letter to this Irish fool saying that he can have it together with everything else my family owned in Connemara and keep it to all eternity for all we care!" He almost retched up at the mere thought that he should ever behold the place where his brother and his first wife had been brought to rest. "So it will be Massilia for me, I think!"

"_Massilia_?"

"Well, it's a beautiful city, Yvain had a splendid estate there and a very prosperous business as well as many friends. For them his brother was a rascal who had the courtesy of dying early, leaving an unfortunate son behind who came to Yvain's tender care and mercy. But nobody really knows how many brothers the Duke has had; so the real saint of the family should be welcomed there, don't you think?"

"What saint?"

Uther cocked his head and smiled. "Don't I look the part?"

"No, My Lord" his son said most firmly. "You most certainly don't!"

Arthur looked at his father and saw that he had blushed. Imagine. Uther Pendragon blushing with embarrassment. How often had that happened in his life? Once? Twice?

"But you could still do me a favour, My Lord!" Again the King – former King! – nestled at his sword belt and his son's heart hurt, because of the all too familiar gesture as much as of the formal, under the circumstances gruesome, use of his title. "Would you allow me to take Gaius with me?"

With a rueful smile Uther looked furtively at his son's face. "I assume it will give you some trouble with a certain young warlock but nevertheless….." "_There's not much left in my life besides him and it took a lifetime for me to recognize him for what he really is__ to me_." Uther did not say it but Arthur heard it all the same.

"If he agrees to accompany you it will neither be for me nor for Merlin to interfere with his decision" the younger Pendragon replied coarsely, touched to the quick by the humble request.

"Actually I had thought of a bit more ….. active support from you, My Lord!"

"Like what?"

"Like issuing an order to our healer friend. It would make things much easier for him."

"For _him_?" Arthur shouted it, mortified that for a second he had been misled into believing that his father had changed. "For _you_, you mean. Oh, no, I will not spare you the trouble. You will have the courtesy of asking him! After what he has done for both of us, do you really think I am willing to treat him like a dog that can be ordered to go or come at our pleasure? Most certainly not, father!"

Uther looked at his son's angry face and suddenly he felt proud against his will. "_Words of a King_!" he thought before he nodded. "I will ask him" he said but as he still was Uther Pendragon, the man he had always been, he could not help himself but keep up appearances until the very end. "It wasn't necessary to remind me!" he huffed.

Arthur returned his punitive gaze, exasperated by so much obstinate and arrogant defiance until he flinched at his father's hand falling on his shoulder.

"I wish you all the luck in the world, My Lord. But one last advice, from one King of Camelot to the other – there _are_ some two-legged dogs in this world and it never hurts if a King knows how to identify and treat them if he is unfortunate enough to meet them!"

Uther was already on his way to his old healer friend when he craned his neck to face Camelot's former Crown Prince one last time. "On second thoughts, if there's biting and growling to be done, you could always delegate the task to a certain young warlock. The puppy has more and sharper teeth in his mouth than one would give him credit for."

Clear-sighted as always when it came to his royal friend the puppy in question chose this exact moment to approach his personal pet Pendragon from behind. "Leave him alone, Arthur. He wouldn't want you to fuss about him!"

"Did you know that he would not come home with us?"

Merlin shrugged uncomfortably. This was a most unfortunate question.

"Would you mind if Gaius accompanied him to Massilia?" Arthur continued, not noticing his friend's nervousness.

Merlin paled a bit. "Is that what he wants?" and it sounded more than just a bit offended. Actually, he sniffed, not only from anger.

"If 'he' means my father, he certainly does. As for Gaius, we shall have to wait and see, won't we?"

The young warlock shivered from a sudden cold gust of wind. Absent minded he gazed at the sailors who awkwardly danced around their distinguished passengers, busying themselves with the daily ship's routine. "Gaius asked me to tell you something! Something the Ki…., that Uther has told him. Thing is, you should not call him father any more, not if someone from Camelot is within earshot that is."

Arthur stood stunned. "_What_?"

Merlin looked at him, his face filled with pity. "From what your father told Gaius I gather he's been stroke off the official documents or something like that. For Camelot's records you are your mother's son and nothing else. Seems as if this is really important to some of the bigwigs back home."

Hesitatingly he touched his friend's arm. "They have made sure that you can do nothing about it. Geoffrey had to put it down in writing, or so Gaius says. If you try to fight this you may be the first King in Camelot's history who has been forced to abdicate _before_ his coronation. And you can't do that to Uther. He fought too hard to see you on that throne!"

"_Two legged dogs_!" Arthur thought. "_And I thought I'd known them through and through, all my life_!" He swallowed visibly and shrugged helplessly. Right now he was too dumbfounded and bitterly disappointed by this persiflage of a homecoming to mount the barricades.

"You know what they say" Merlin murmured. "Some you lose and other's you just can't win!" He tried to smile but failed miserably. "Politics, aye? Gaius once told me how your father learned to shake a false friend's hand. Now it's your turn I guess!"

Arthur listened to this silently and for a fleeting moment he wished that Yvain had never been defeated. His uncle had always known how to hate his enemies and love his friends. In this very moment, his nephew envied him his clear sense of distinction. Camelot's new King wasn't sure he'd ever know again who was what.

Meanwhile Uther had pushed aside all thoughts of Camelot, even of his son, if only temporarily. This was something he had to concentrate on.

"Gaius" he said. "May I have a word with you!" Somehow uttering the question as a statement made things much easier for him.

There was, however, one old adept from the healers' temple who had no intention of making things easier for a mortified Ex-King. "What do you want?"

"You may have overheard what I said to my so…. to the King!"

"As always your way of education and your general treatment of him has forced me to forget about discretion, yes!"

Uther inhaled deeply to keep his calm. "I have chosen Massilia for my exi…. for my retirement and the King is not averse!"

"How very fortunate you are!"

"I am not altogether sure of my welcome there. Who knows what my late brother has told the notables and friends about his family? Yvain must have convinced them somehow that Arthur was his ward."

"Most certainly. Albeit I would give some credit to your son's acting abilities. Must have been hard to play the poor and grateful relative while all he really wanted was to escape from there as fast and as far as possible!"

"Doubtlessly, doubtlessly." Uther nervously cleared his throat. Damn the old fool, couldn't he meet him at least half the way?

"I think much would depend on my entourage" he tried another tack. "Maybe if I were in the company of a most distinguished healer; a man whose appearance and dignity would vouch for my own?" Furtively the former King looked at his counterpart. "What do you think, Gaius? It's warmer there, much warmer than in Camelot. Much better for your – for _our_ old bones."

"Don't you dare flattering me, Uther Pendragon" Gaius growled. "There never was any luck for me in your flattering me."

"Are you coming?"

Gaius' head whirled. He did not know what he thought and he wasn't sure he'd know it any time soon. "That's for your son to decide. I am his subject after all."

Pendragon's features darkened dangerously. A King he might be no longer but he still was himself. Very much so. And he knew what he wanted.

"Arthur's subject my arse" he snarled in return. "The boy will have to accept what the two of us decide here and now, thank you very much. Last time I checked I still was his _father_!" Right now he had no time to remember his recent request for a royal order to his healer friend.

"Uther, I heard some of your conversation but not all of it. Did you or did you not tell your son that he will most probably never see you again?"

"Well, kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Damn you man, you're getting off the track again. My son only arrived a few days ago, after three years of captivity, out of the blue, when I was pretty sure I'd seen him for the last time that accursed night we had to leave him behind in this hell-hole. What did you expect me to do, embrace him and tell him the good news? - Oh hello, Arthur, how nice to see you after all this time. By the way, I haven't got the time to greet you properly; I am on my way to retirement and somewhat in a hurry? I told him the essence, isn't that enough?"

"You _did_ embrace him!"

"Well it seemed a good idea at the time. He seemed to like it."

"It was. And he did. As far as I know he almost suffocated you when he returned the hug. At least that's what Leon said. That's somewhat of a give-away, don't you think?"

"You've lost me!"

"I don't think I have. You're mad at me under all your soft words. You lacked the courage to tell him, that's what. You wanted _me_ to soften the blow. Oh hello Arthur, by the way, your father had an early departure but don't you worry, I will join him in beautiful Massilia where it is warm all the time. Farewell and good luck to you and your rule. Was that it?"

When Uther kept silent, Gaius became really aggravated. "Oh don't you give me that look of a hurt kitty, you are not your son. He always was much better at that and _he_ stopped doing it when he was but ten years old!"

Again Pendragon shrugged. "You're right. Something like that crossed my mind. You know me too well. But originally I wasn't thinking of you. I thought that maybe Merlin would be the right person to tell Arthur about the details of our separation."

"_Merlin_?"

"After all he knew what was going to happen once his most beloved Prince was free!"

"How should the boy know….?"

"He was my servant at the time, remember? He was with me in the Council Chamber when they put me through the wringer. He saw me sign the documents for Arthur's succession and he saw _them_ sign the documents for my banishment. So why shouldn't he be the one to tell my son what's what? But anyway, this is not the issue here."

"I'll have to think about it" Gaius said. "I have been waiting for your son's rule to come about as much as anybody else in Camelot. It's not a small thing to go away now and miss all the fun."

This was the kind of remark that silenced even Uther Pendragon. Gaius saw the blow hit home and bit his lip. Naturally his pricked ears had heard every sound and his eyes had seen every twitch in the features of both men when Uther had been talking to his son. The healer had been angered as well as saddened by what to his eyes and ears had been a most heartless, most reckless answer to a question that must have cost Arthur a great deal in asking. But nevertheless...

"Oh never mind" the physician said. "I promise I will think about it. After all it's not as if I'd never thought about sparing myself the ordeal of another winter in this cold, uncomfortable citadel you call a royal castle. Your son is to be pitied for many things, his family relations among them, but most of all for this dreadful place."

"As I said" Uther said, with the slightest hint of a treacherous tremolo in his voice. "It _is_ much warmer in Massilia." Knowing that Gaius would need some time before he made his final decision Pendragon turned away to resume his lonely walk on the starboard side of the deck. He knew his son too well to assume that Arthur would come near him any time soon. The father had taught his son to cope with things in silence and alone; now the son would do exactly that.

While Uther walked the deck he watched Morgana from the corner of his eyes. Her neck straight and her head lifted she stood on the other side of the deck and her hair was ruffled by the wind. Her face was enigmatic, unreadable to anyone but him. She was _enjoying_ this. She knew exactly how he felt and she enjoyed his anguish most thoroughly.

It was not that Camelot's former King begrudged her the triumph. He owed her a father and a youth spent in fear of the man who once had promised to guard her with his life. This gloating was hardly enough to pay the bill. What ate away at him was the knowledge that she was another missed chance, another opportunity for having a human being close to his heart which he had seen too late in life. Now she had made her bed on a bunch of thorny branches and it was entirely his fault.

Silently he bowed to her and watched her when she went away abruptly, her straight back and quivering chin a more persuasive form of accusation and rejection than a stream of words could have been.

For the rest of their journey Uther could feel the walls of loneliness closing in on him, bit by bit. Overtaxed by the situation, Arthur kept his distance and somehow the others took their example from him.

Until, only a few hours before the ship should make her landfall a friendly but furtive hand touched the Ex-King's arm. "Gaius and Arthur would like to talk to you, Your Grace" Merlin said.

"Have you forgotten that there is no need to address me like that, idiot?"

"Apparently we both like to use unbecoming titles!"

Uther noticed the young man's twisting lips, desperately fighting the smile that lurked just behind a corner, and the Noble's sword hand began to itch. "Your master should teach you some manners my boy, before you grow too big for your boots!"

"Presently he lacks the time, he has a father to take care of and that's a very demanding job! You know, a son's work is never done!"

"Ouch!" Merlin squirmed when Uther's fist grabbed his neck and shook him like an insolent cat. "Don't get too comfortable. There are no stocks here but aboard ship they prefer the nine tailed cat anyway. If I didn't know that you are trying to make a brave face while you are mourning Gaius' imminent departure I would tie you to the gratings myself."

Rubbing his neck Merlin watched him go to meet the others. He didn't like it very much but he knew he'd miss this walking enigma, this singular blend of ego-centrism and caring, this source of fascination and of abhorrence whose name was Uther Pendragon.

At the end of the day he for one would always think that there could have been worse men resting their arse on the throne of Camelot!


	36. The end of the beginning

**36. The end of a beginning**

Gaius wasn't very surprised when, after lots of discussions between father and son, Uther's travelling plans were somewhat amended.

On their arrival at the Welsh coast the young King made sure that his messenger to Camelot would take some time before he finally reached the royal castle. As His most resolved Majesty aptly put it – Merlin's words, not Gaius' – this would give him and his father an opportunity for some nice and quiet talks, the kind they had not had in years. Other than Uther himself the young warlock was not in the least surprised that his friend and master would not let his father go before they had worked their way through all of the skeletons that virtually littered the path of Uther's life.

Naturally many of these talks were neither quiet nor especially nice, at least not for Uther. More than once the former King bitterly missed the ability to call for the guard to have his son restrained and locked up in a cell very, _very _far away. Alas, this was no longer possible. When Guinivere officially joined the man she loved in his bedroom the father temporarily forgot about the new distribution of roles and his son found some short but very decisive words to remind him.

Morgana for one had a great time and she did not hide it.

Gaius, on the other hand, did not know whether he was glad or unhappy when the intermezzo finally ended and not even Arthur could avoid the parting any longer. Camelot was calling her King back home but she did not call for Uther Pendragon.

The overall agreement was that Gaius would accompany the young King and his entourage to Camelot until the coronation would be over. The coronation and a very surprising wedding but this the delegation who had come to take Arthur home did not yet know. After these hopefully joyous occasions the old healer would leave to join his friend in Massilia for good.

It had not been an easy decision and especially Merlin had had a word or two to say to that. Gaius had found Uther smirking at his doorstep once, after a more heated conversation with his ward. "It's good to see that Arthur isn't the only one who's having fun at his old man's expense" he had said.

So the final evening came for all of them.

What father and son said to each other in private during that last night they had together nobody would ever know; not even Merlin or Gaius.

With most of the participants remembering the night they had been forced to leave Arthur behind in Cearcean it was an awkward moment when the former and the present King said their formal good byes the next morning.

Things were made even worse by the Camelot delegation. The notables stood only a few feet away from them but they ignored the man who had ruled over them for more than 20 years. Uther returned the favour to the best of his ability and when he rode off to catch his ship to the Mediterranean Gaius looked at Arthur's face. What he saw there did not bide well for the Camelot notables' future.

Out of habit, Gaius started to worry about what the rash King would do, what it would cost him and who might be the one to suffer the consequences. When he finally realized that he was worrying about another Pendragon King now he found that this did nothing to calm him. "_Like father, like son_" he thought. "_Maybe I should stay in Camelot. Who knows what the clotpole is going to do, now that they have made him angry?"_ Aggravated he looked at his ward who rode at Arthur's side, merrily enjoying the Welsh spring and all the excitement around him. How typical for the childish boy not to know how serious it all was!

"Gaius!" Morgana said. "This is _Arthur _Pendragon, remember?"

"Get out of my head, child!"

"There is no need to go into your head if all your thoughts are written that plainly on your face!"

"It's not right to make fun of this. At least _you_ should know that Arthur is facing some very difficult challenges."

"Yes, and how will my poor brother manage without you?"

"It's not me I'm thinking about it's…."

"Uther!" she stated drily.

"Well, and if it is Uther I'm thinking about, what is there to laugh at? A King's own Court can be a more dangerous place than any battle field. At least Uther knows how to survive the snake pit!"

"Gaius, my brother has survived his father, his uncle, his aunt and his – I mean our – beloved sister. Believe me, I am related to the lot myself; I know what I am talking about. If Arthur can survive his own family neither friend nor foe can harm him, human or beast, magical or otherwise." She laughed out loud and spurred her horse to join the group in the lead of the caravan.

Gaius saw Merlin's alarmed face when she approached him – something she loved to do – and shook his head. Perhaps Arthur wasn't the only one who had something to be apprehensive of.

However, presently Uther's son found more things to loath than challenges to fear.

The physician thought more than once on their journey home that the young King would have deserved something better than this state occasion of a homecoming. Surrounded by boot-lickers, pompous courtiers and formal greetings in every larger village or estate he was a prisoner of rank and protocol with barely an opportunity to speak a word in private to those he had been pining for all this time.

Things did not get better after they had reached Camelot Castle. The hurly-burly absorbed the young King completely once the preparations for the coronation were well under way.

The quietest hours he had Arthur spend with the Council behind closed doors. Other than the enthusiastic reception would make them all believe the prolonged absence of King and Prince had not exactly strengthened the Pendragon rule.

This became obvious when Arthur tried to negotiate some milder terms for Uther's banishment. There was no chance to soften the realm's attitude towards their former ruler and with a silent sigh and a horribly sick feeling in his guts the new King abandoned the subject and with it his father.

He did not say another word on the matter but his Courtiers and Council Members knew what this silent cost him. So they closed and opened their fists only in their pockets when Arthur finally brought his foot down in some other urgent matters, defining his rule once and for all.

Two new laws hit the realm like strikes of a hammer. The first lifted the ban on magic. The second pronounced the wedding and the adjoining marriage contract of Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, and a servant girl named Guinivere and nothing else.

The notables went mad, as did the people, the one with anger and the others with joy. Admittedly the joy was caused by the announced feastings, an amnesty and a six months tax relief more than by a genuine pleasure at a peasant girl's good fortune. Nevertheless the atmosphere improved – for a while at least.

The wedding itself was a very private affair, at the King's explicit wishes, and performed in some haste. The gossipers had much to say about the latter. Officially the wedding feast was just postponed until coronation day. The treasurer and the pursers were much in favour of this solution, especially after the tax relief had been pronounced.

Guinivere did her very best to ignore the gossip, the derisive looks, the barely hidden sneers and the tale telling supercilious smiles which from now on would be her life, either until Arthur would produce a more interesting scandal or she would produce an heir to the throne. Gaius admired her more than he could say while her husband was still mercifully oblivious of his wife's impossible situation.

However, somebody else had even more problems to adapt to his new station in life. Gaius had the pleasure of seeing Merlin running his feet off. Being Arthur's personal friend and official Court Sorcerer was definitely more stressful than being the Prince's servant. The physician often imagined he could hear the former King laugh at the sight of the young warlock running around desperately with three errands at once while his Royal Master was busy keeping the other courtiers on their toes.

At least Merlin wouldn't have much time to miss his old guardian, that much was certain.

On the morning of the combined coronation/wedding feast Gaius groaned while he tried to press his poor feet into the fancy shoes that went with the finery he had to wear for the occasion.

Naturally he was late but he found that Morgana, still Arthur's only official sister and a Princess of Camelot by the new King's decree, had kept a place for him at her side. Gratefully he joined her.

She looked radiant. He had never seen her so beautiful before. If he had not known better he'd thought she was trying to outshine even the new Queen herself. For the briefest moment he thought of Lordegrade before he dismissed all dark thoughts of the past from his mind. It had clouded and almost destroyed a Prince's life, it would not mar a King's coronation day.

The healer chuckled when he spotted Merlin behind the two throne seats where he would wait for his King/Master/Friend or whatever he considered Arthur to be right now. The young warlock was that nervous, he actually gnawed his thumb.

"You know Gaius, I think I am the only one who got it all" Morgana suddenly whispered. "Think of it. My father's murderer is dead, Uther's gone, my sister has a life of her own now – may she breed in peace – my brother is well off, I've returned to my home and to a much extended stipend as I may add and guess what?"

She smiled at him; then her eyes wandered to where the throne was. Gaius followed her gaze and found it resting on Merlin in what could only be called a most predatory manner. In the very last moment before the ceremony began she bent to Gaius' ear one last time.

"You know, I think he will not try to poison me again. Wouldn't you agree?"

**Finis**

**A/N:** God(s), I thought I'd never finish this.

Please, dear readers, if you are still with me after more than 130.000 words, give me some reviews on this, I need that feedback right now. Thanks in advance.

Thanks to all who've sent reviews or put this story on their Alert-List or Favourite Story List. You are great people, to stay with the Ghosts for all this time!

And I promise to invest more time in The Llanfair Heritage from now on.


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